


wax/wane

by beatricethecat



Series: gutted/sorted [2]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: AU Week, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/F, Fluff, London, New York
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:36:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 93,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4778978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatricethecat/pseuds/beatricethecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part two of gutted/sorted (perhaps best to read that first!). </p><p>Sparks fly as Myka and Helena finally connect, but will they lose or find themselves through love? Myka’s prospects continue to rise, her star shining brightly, while Helena’s fortunes fall, snowballing ever further south. When everything falls apart, will the intense gravitational pull between them be enough to see them through?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm rating this mature for the occasional strong language and the eventual shedding of clothes. 
> 
> I will say this out loud ahead of time, Christina remains alive and well and cancer does not make an appearance (there are plenty of ways for things to fall apart, trust me.) The course is plotted, I just need to fill in the details.

————————

> _One can’t paint New York as it is, but rather as it is felt._  
>  -Georgia O’Keefe

\---------------------

It’s Wednesday morning.

Myka sits at her desk reading and rereading important emails, occasionally writing a sentence or two, finding it impossible to focus on anything in particular. She’s been off her game all week, her thoughts consumed by Sunday afternoon’s events and her parting kiss with Helena. And though she knows it’s a futile exercise, she can’t help wishing she’d phrased things differently before she left.

Helena hasn’t called.

She _has_ texted, often, which Myka thinks is at least, something, but in general, Helena's seemed somewhat remote.

_\- How are you today, love?_  
Monday morning. Sweet but formal.

_\- Simply gasping for this day to be over._  
Monday afternoon. Conversational but nondescript.

_\- Christina sends a warm hello._  
Monday evening. Personal but detached.

_\- Wishing you were here right now._  
Monday night. After Christina’s bedtime. Finally something intimate, but probably prompted by exhaustion. Nevertheless, Myka has to fight the urge to immediately hop in a cab and arrive unannounced on Helena’s doorstep.

Tuesday follows the same pattern.

Wednesday, so far, is up in the air

Myka checks her phone every five minutes, thinking maybe she should call Helena and leave a message, but before hitting “call,” reminds herself it’s really only been two days, and two days isn’t a lot of time, and if anyone knows how hectic Helena’s schedule can be, it’s her. Helena’s not only busy with work but also Christina, and when she thinks of Christina she worries about that kiss, that maybe she shouldn’t have kissed Helena in front of Christina, and if Christina was upset about the kiss that _that’s_ what’s holding Helena back. But Helena must know she didn’t do it on purpose, kiss her in front of Christina, that she meant it to be brief, but then it wasn’t, and things just kind of happened. Plus she would never purposefully do anything that would upset that little girl. She tells herself to breathe, stop overthinking, it will all be fine. Just calm down let things pan out as they will.

To soothe her nerves she convinces herself to send a text, but gets lost in semantics, agonizing over the right words; something short and sweet, personal but not too sappy, concise but not cold, warm but not needy. Before she makes a decision, her phone rings. She answers instantly without looking at the caller.

“Myka."

It’s Helena. Myka can hear the sound of a power saw in the background and some faint male voices.

“Helena, are you ok?"

“I-I’m sorry I haven’t called.”

Helena sounds distraught. Myka can hear a car honking. She must be on the move.

“It’s ok. You’re calling now.” Myka leans her elbows on her desk. She picks up a pencil and taps it thoughtlessly on the desk.

“I-I’ve realized I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” The tapping stops.

An ambulance approaches, siren blaring, and the conversation pauses until it passes.

Helena shouts over the decaying piercing sound. “Organize and perform activities that might ordinarily be expected of one in this situation.”

“What?” Myka raises the pencil to her lips.

“ _Dating_ , Myka. How to go out on a _date_.” Helena’s voice stays raised even though the ambulance is out of range.

“Ohhh,” Myka nods in tiny strokes and taps the pencil on the desk again.

"Between my schedule, your schedule and Christina’s schedule—"

“Helena, there’s no right way to do this.” Myka points toward an imaginary Helena.

“But you requested an 'official date’,” Helena elaborates, an earnest desperation sounding in her voice.

The pencil drops. “Oh God, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to put that kind of pressure on you. Whatever the rules are, Helena, it really doesn’t matter. I-I think we’ve already broken them. I mean I was living with you already, though platonically."

Myka leans back in her chair.

“Why don’t we just—” Myka lets out a weighted breath. “Just keep doing the things we’ve already been doing, you know? Be organic about it.” She winces as soon as the words fall off her lips, thinking “being organic" might be the worst thing they could do, ever.

“All right,” Helena says apprehensively. "Then what do you suggest we do?”

Myka lurches forward and leans her elbows on her desk again, fingers rubbing circles over her temple. “Why don’t I just come over after work tonight with some take out like old times. Let’s start there."

“Are you sure? That seems rather dismal for an ‘official' first date."

“I think you’re getting stuck on ‘official’ here. Forget I ever said it. It’d just be really nice to see you both."

There’s a pause as Helena considers this. In the background, Myka hears people walking by talking loudly coupled with the screechy rumble of a garbage truck coming to a halt.

"Helena, this is going to work however it works, but it won’t work at all unless it actually starts.”

“Very well.”

Myka drops her arm to the desk with a thump. "Where are you?

Helena takes a moment to respond as if surveying her surroundings. "It seems I’ve wandered all the way east to the projects. I should probably get back to the job site."

“Get some lunch first, and I’ll see you after work.” Myka’s lips curl up at the thought.

"Christina will be thrilled, by the way.” Helena’s voice warms considerably.

Myka’s face falls flat. "I meant to ask you about that. Was she ok with the, uh, _kissing_ the other day? I didn’t mean to make her uncomfortable."

"She was confused. We had a chat. You’re still held in high regard. But perhaps bring along cupcakes, just to clear the air. Her favorites are the Sassy Red Velvets, with ones with chocolate icing."

Myka smiles, “Ok, will do."

\--------------------

Myka arrives at Helena’s shortly before seven.

Helena answers the door and greets Myka with an affectionate, “Hello, stranger."

“Hello, back,” Myka chirps, standing laden with her purse, a shopping bag full of art supplies and a paper bag containing dinner. Eyes full of stars, she leans in to kiss Helena on the lips but hesitates, thinking it might not be appropriate just yet.

Helena resolves her quandary quickly by giving her a peck on the cheek. She plucks the bag of food from Myka's hand.

“I wasn’t sure what to get and was halfway home before thinking to text and ask. I hope souvlaki and greek salad is OK with everyone."

“Sounds lovely,” Helena murmers warmly, then bellows, "Christina, dinner!"

Christina barrels out of her room, Dewy bounding by her side. She runs across the kitchen, shouting a quick “Hi, Myka!” then chases Dewy into the living room. He slips under the couch and Christina jumps on top. Hanging upside-down over the edge, she trusts out a hand to catch him.

“Christina, what kind of greeting was that?" Helena scolds from the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Christina’s head pops up.

Myka smiles at Christina. “Hey, I brought you something.”

Christina's eyes light up. She hops off the couch and bounds toward Myka.

Myka hands Christina a white box. “I got the ones your mom said you liked, plus a few others.”

Christina gasps as she opens the lid. “Mom, look!"

Helena saunters over to view the contents. “Nice touch. You’ve clearly placated an eight-year-old before."

Myka grins sheepishly. “Actually, no. But I thought, cupcakes are fine and all but I wanted to make them special. Like you did for me.” Her grin turns into an affectionate smile. "And Christina loves Dewy so much, so I thought I’d put his cute little face on there."

Christina reaches in to grab a cupcake but Helena intercepts. She closes the lid takes the box from Christina's hands. “After dinner, young lady.”

“Do you like them, Christina?” Myka queries.

Christina flashes Myka a huge grin. “They’re cute! Did you draw Dewy?"

“I did.” Myka nods once.

“Can you show me how to do it?” Christina innocetnly asks, wide-eyed.

“I can, someday—"

“But not today. Wash up for dinner." Helena cuts Myka off.

“Ok,” Christina pouts.

“Did you say thank you to Myka?”

“Thank you.” Christina gives Myka a cheery hug.

“You’re welcome, honey.” Myka's guilt lessens.

Helena plates the food and serves it on the coffee table. Christina sits between Myka and Helena on the couch.

“Perhaps I should invest in a proper table,” Helena quips.

“I don’t know. Where would you put it?” Myka scans the room.

“I’m not sure. What do you think, Christina.” Helena turns to Christina.

“We don’t need a table, Mom. I like the way things are.” Christina's face pinches.

“What’s wrong, dear. Does your food not agree with you?” Helena nods at Christina’s plate.

Christina heaves a sigh, shoulders slouching, brows meeting in the middle. “Are we gonna have to move because Myka kissed you?"

Helena's mouth forms a slow smile and her eyes twinkle. “Oh, so that’s it.” She runs a comforting hand though Christina’s curls and pulls her close. “No, dear, we’re not moving anywhere."

Christina’s eyes angle up at Helena. “Can Myka move back in with us?"

Helena glances at Myka, clearly amused, then back down at Christina.

“Myka's just moved into her own apartment. I imagine she’s quite happy there as she has her own things. As you do, in your room.” Helena nods towards Christina’s room.

“You can come and visit sometime,” Myka adds cheerfully.

“Ok,” Christina mouths dejectedly

Helena sighs and releases Christina from her grasp.

A hush fills the room as the group eats quietly.

“Do you have kids, Myka?" Christina abruptly blurts.

Myka nearly chokes on her food. “Me, kids? No.” She barks a short nervous laugh.

Myka side-eyes Helena wearing a smug smirk.

Helena gives her the evil eye.

Myka's face drops instantly, and she averts her gaze while biting her bottom lip.

“I do live with other people, though. Adult people. I have roommates.” Myka offers appologetically.

“Are they nice?” Christina mumbles, unfazed.

“I think so. I don’t see them very much.” Myka spears some feta in her salad.

“Myka lives in Brooklyn now Christina, remember?” Helena waves a pita at Christina.

“Yeah. But, I wish she still lived with us.” Christina pokes a cube of chicken on her plate with her fork.

Helena sighs, then changes the subject. “Do you need help with your homework?"

“Yeah.” Christina lowers her shoulders.

“All right. Get it and we’ll work on it out here. Together. Then perhaps you might make some art with Myka.” Helena eyes Myka sternly.

Myka agrees, nodding in quick, small strokes.

“OK!” Christina’s eyes light up. She hops off the couch, and runs across the apartment ,into her room.

Helena moves to clean up, but Myka catches her upper arm with a hand. Helena freezes and twists her head towards Myka.

“Helena, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No matter,” Helena states plainly, lips flattening.

“You know I love Christina.” Myka’s gaze is over-bright.

“I know,” Helena says softly, eyes filling ith an affectionate glow.

Christina ambles back into the room and drops her books on the couch.

“Perhaps _Myka_ can help you whist I clean up.” Helena narrows her eyes at Myka.

Myka playfully purses her lips at Helena, then smiles at Christina. “Lemme see what’cha got goin’ on there, champ."

\------------------------

Myka sips a glass of water, mulling over the evening, patiently waiting for Helena to return from tucking Christina into bed. It’s been easy to fall back on old patterns, she thinks, but the shift in her and Helena’s status has charged every movement with an anticipatory energy that's been hard to ignore. Having cleared the air with Christina, she's more confident than ever about moving things forward with Helena, yet the reality of being alone with her makes her stomach roll. She’s honestly a ball of nerves.

Myka hears Helena quietly pull Christina's door shut and watches her shuffle through the bedroom.

Helena notes Myka’s attention and comes to a stop. She folds her arms over her chest and leans on the doorframe at the threshold of the living room. Her lips curve up as she gazes fondly at Myka, eyes beaming with an inquisitive confidence.

Myka responds with a warm but timid grin, secretly worring over what Helena might be thinking.

Helena pushes off and strides across the floor, dropping heavily on the couch next to Myka.

Myka eyes her nervously, fingers tensing, gripping her glass of water tighter.

Helena;s gaze flicks to Myka's lips. She flashes Myka a comfortably flirtatious smile.

Myka averts her eyes and drops her head down, avidly studying her glass. She restlessly runs her thumb over the lip, then snickers once.

“It's funny, sitting on the couch after sleeping on it for all those weeks. I mean, I guess we all sat here together on Sunday, but ..."

Myka babbles on while Helena inches closer, close enough that their legs now touch. She nimbly reaches over and, using a forefinger and thumb, lifts, then removes Myka's glass from her hand, placing it securely on the coffee table. Her eyes track slowly up Myka’s form, radiating pure, unadulterated affection.

Myka's heart flutters as Helena’s gaze meets hers. She sits, posture stiff, mouth silent, eyes wide, clasping her now empty hands together on her lap. Her lips press together nervously but quiver up into a sweet, bashful smile.

Helena's sedate grin swells as she beams with brazen desire.

Myka's eyes wander, overwhelmed by Helena’s heated gaze and she fixates on Helena's lips. She carefully extends a hand, fingers twiching, delicately touching skin, gingerly tracing the contours created by Helena’s infinite grin. A wave of calm takes over her upon contact, and she manages to speak up.

“You get these super cute dimples when you smile,” Myka explains with a soft reverence, eyes flicking up to catch Helena’s.

Her touch slides up, skimming the crest of Helena’s cheek, curving counter clockwise, gracefully drawing a half-circle up and around Helena’s eye. Her fingers deliberatly slow as they comb roughly through Helena's brow, mindfully noting its texture and length.

“And your eyes, they turn into these adorable half-moons.”

Myka's fingers drift down the bridge Helena's nose, cascading off the end one by one, raking heavily over Helena’s parted mouth. Her index finger catches, dragging lazily back and forth, caressing the soft curve of Helena’s sensuous bottom lip. A quiver radiates out from the center of her spine as Helena's breath, hot and quick, rolls over her skin.

Helena's eyes flick down, and her arm lifts up, fingers reaching, slipping effortlessly around Myka’s hand, severing Myka’s touch, holding it steady a mere inch away. Leaning forward, she presses her lips tenderly into the soft flesh of Myka's palm, eyes glowing directly at Myka.

Helena burrows her mouth into the hollow of Myka’s palm and drags her bottom lip, letting the tip of her tongue reach out to dilligently trace the path of a creased line.

Myka’s breathing deepens, mouth falling open to facilitate the flow of oxygen to her lungs. Eyes wide, she stares fixedly at her hand as it rests in Helena's.

Helena's lips slide laterally, placing light kisses until she arrives at Myka’s wrist. In one smooth motion she draws her head back and gently tugs Myka's arm toward her.

Myka falls limply forward while Helena’s other arm extends, fingers threading aggressively into Myka’s curls, hand tensing, guiding Myka’s lips impatiently toward her own.

Myka inhales sharply upon contact, throughly roused by Helena’s voracious kiss. She cranes forward, eagerly reciprocating the gesture.

Helena's fingers flex and shift through the depths of Myka's dense locks, dexterously traveling downwards to cup the base of her skull, heatedly urging her nearer. Her shoulders twist and a hand drops, hungrily grasping Myka's outer thigh, palm raking roughly over Myka’s skirt, trawling up, following the curve of Myka's hip, lingering as she reaches Myka's waist.

Helena’s lips part, tongue reaching out to delicately graze Myka’s as she tightly grips the fabric of Myka's blouse.

Myka gasps as Helena’s fingertips firmly gouge into the soft flesh of her back. Completely breathless, Myka breaks contact.

Helena’s mouth shifts, placing thirsty kisses along the edge of Myka’s jaw, turning south at her ear, mapping the elegant curve of her neck.

Myka's head lolls back and a low, soft moan rumbles from the depths of her lungs as Helena grazes the already electrified skin of her neck. Helena's attentions linger on an gracefully sloped collarbone as she exhales a hot, heavy breath and her mouth slowly roams upwards, stopping to press insistently into the valley separating earlobe and jaw.

Myka’s mouth drops open, and her eyes squeeze shut as she twists, cheek straining to stroke Helena’s ear, neck nuzzling into Helena’s touch.

Helena breaks contact as she draws in a quick breath and Myka springs into action, towing back then reaching out, grabbing Helena's jaw, pulling her forward, seamlessly coupling their lips together.

Myka's hands slip roughly down Helena's neck and agressively grip Helena's shoulders, tugging her closer, willfully forcing bodies to meet.

Helena snakes her arms around Myka’s waist and leans forward using all of her weight, urging Myka further into the corner of the couch.

Myka reclines willingly, pulse racing wildly at the feel of Helena’s body pressing firmly against hers. She kisses Helena ravenously and thrusts her arms up, hands covetously diving into Helena’s velvety hair.

Helena’s hands venture south, fingers skirting the hem of Myka’s blouse, slyly sliding up and under, allowing charged skin to touch hidden flesh.

Myka arches upon contact then immediately stiffens. She pushes Helena away.

“H-Helena, I—” Myka’s breath heaves out of control, heart racing, mouth gaping, “We—” her eyes beam with equal parts want and fear, “C-C-Christina i-is—"

“Asleep,” Helena mouths assuredly, gingerly lifting Myka’s hand to her lips. She places soft kisses on Myka's knuckles, eyes blazing with anticipation.

Myka’s focus darts anxiously between Helena’s distracting kisses and her steamy gaze. “But, what if she wakes up?"

Helena intertwines their hands and lays them on her thigh, then tenderly places a curl behind Myka's ear. Her lips curve up sweetly. “Myka, we need not go any further than is comfortable."

Helena’s smile slowly fades as her arm drops. “Have you any idea how long I’ve ached to touch you, Myka?”

“I—” Myka opens her mouth to answer but hesitates. She eyes their joined hands, and rubs a thumb reassuringly over Helena’s knuckle. “No."

Helena lightly squeezes Myka’s hand. “Since that day at the bar, when I escorted you to the scene of the fire."

“That long? Really?” Myka’s head flies up and her mouth goes slack.

“I believe so.” Helena nods using tiny motions up and down.

“Then why did you...I mean, that night, after you fixed the tub, when I almost...and-and you _stopped_ me.” She looks sentimentally toward the tub, eyes darting feircely back to Helena. “Why?"

Helena doesn’t answer straight away, pausing to find the right words, gently sucking on her bottom lip.

Myka glares at Helena, one brow raised, angered by the revelation Helena wanted her all along, that her rationalizations and self-doubt were for nought.

Helena finally speaks. “Myka, you were traumatized, your whole life had been turned upside-down. I was a care giver and you were a guest in my home. In that sort of situation, gratitude is often mistaken for affection. I could not, in good faith, have taken advantage of you like that, now could I?” Helena tries to pull her hand away, but Myka grips it tighter.

Myka narrows her eyes and wants to argue the point, but admits to herself Helena’s logic is sound. She’s reminded of Abigail’s relentless jokes concerning Helena’s prince-like qualities, and as ridiculous as it might sound, she's really hit the nail on the head.

Helena looks on with mild concern. “You needed time to heal, to begin your life again without further complications. And, what if, once you left all this wonder, and saw my life from a distance … what if you regretted ever making a move?" She waves a hand around the room.

Myka’s heart sinks at the prospect. “Helena, no.” She stumbles for words, realizing she’s not exactly sure how to respond. “Just,“ she reaches out, cupping Helena’s jaw with the utmost care, pulling her closer, placing the most heartfelt kiss imaginable on Helena’s lips. She gently rests her forehead on Helena’s as her hand trails down to settle, palm down, over Helena’s heart. “No,” she repeats insistently.

Myka’s eyes close and she sits motionless, hand soaking up the rhythmic thump of Helena’s beating heart. She pulls back and maneuvers Helena so her head is lying her lap, body spread horizontally across the couch. Myka places one hand gently on Helena’s upper arm and with the other combs reverently through Helena’s silky mane, using calming, even strokes.

Helena breathes a deep, cleansing breath, releasing it slowly as her eyes flutter closed.

Myka feels Helena's body sinking into her own and a loving warmth transfers between them, as if a charged energy was magnetically holding them together.

Myka slouches, head lolling back to rest on the couch cushion, eyes closing, tension dropping, finally feeling at ease. Her hand slows it’s gentle caresses, then stops entirely, falling limp as she nods off into a light slumber.

Helena is already asleep.

A half and hour later, Myka sucks in a deep breath as she jolts awake, and rolls her neck back and forth to work out a kink. Her hands tense as they rest on Helena’s form, and Helena stirs, eyes groggily blinking open. She lifts her head and looks quizzically at Myka, as if unsure Myka is real.

Myka brushes Helena's hair out of her face and smiles contentedly. Helena’s head plops back onto Myka’s lap.

Myka lets out a deep, resigned sigh. “I really hate to say this, but I should go.”

Helena snuggles deeper into Myka’s lap and closes her eyes tightly, feigning sleep.

Myka smiles sweetly and resumes combing her fingers through Helena’s locks.

“I have a big meeting tomorrow and ..."

Myka’s words hang as Helena reaches up and grabs her hand, pulling it down to kiss it tenderly.

“You should take a car. It’s late,” Helena mumbles into the hand.

“Yeah,” Myka breathes out dolefully.

Helena peels herself off Myka’s lap then sits up, yawning while stretching. She drags a hand slowly and raggedly through her hair while smacking her lips.

Myka watches Helena silently, lips unconsciously parting, eyes aglow, stomaching fluttering, completely in awe of this breathtaking woman sitting next to her.

Helena’s gaze meets Myka’s and her brows angle in, taken aback by the intensity in Myka’s stare. “What?”

Myka’s lips form a bright, open-mouthed, lopsided grin. Her eyes shine radiantly. “You’re beautiful. That’s all.”

Helena’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

They stare lovingly for a moment, then Myka breaks the connection before she loses the ability to think. "Hand me my bag."

Helena picks up Myka’s purse and sets it on the coffee table.

Myka pulls out her phone. “Should I call Uber or do you know something else?"

Helena raises a skeptical brow and reaches out a hand. “Allow me.” She swipes Myka’s phone.

Myka rises and gathers her things while Helena places a call.

“Five minutes,” Helena announces and holds out Myka's phone.

“Ok.” Myka wraps her fingers around Helena’s hand and slowly slips her phone frome Helena's grip.

Helena eyes Myka pensively. “Have you got everything?"

Myka nods.

“Good. I’ll walk you out.” Helena rises, lifts Myka’s bag full of art supplies and moves toward the door.

Myka follows.

They walk out of the apartment and down the stairs, exiting onto the street. Helena scans the area for a sign of the car.

Nervous about leaving without a promise of a future meeting, Myka blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “I had a really nice time tonight. We should do it again, soon."

Helena takes hold of Myka’s hands. “I’d like nothing more.”

She drops her chin and sighs deeply, squeezing Myka’s hands while glancing to the side. "I know this is terribly bad form, Myka, but I may need to ask for a favor again, on Friday, concerning Christina.” Her lips lift sheepishly.

Myka grips Helena’s hands tightly and gives a lopsided half-smile. “We could all go out to dinner before you leave for work. That’d be nice.”

The car pulls up and honks once.

“Call me?” Myka takes a step closer to Helena.

“I will.”

Helena leans in and slides her hands around Myka’s waist, then places a kiss on her lips so full of future promises it leaves Myka breathless.

Helena releases Myka and Myka lifts a hand to cup Helena’s jaw, stroking her cheek with a thumb. Helena leans into Myka’s touch and closes her eyes.

“Goodnight, Helena,” Myka mouths lovingly. Her arm drops but her feet won't move.

Helena picks up Myka’s bag, opens the door to the car and places Myka’s supplies inside, then guides Myka in as well. She leans down and gives Myka a short, sweet kiss.

“Goodnight, Myka.”

Helena pushes the door closed and the car speeds off into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ED: 11/08


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inching forward….Myka and Helena begin the intricate dance of navigating their budding relationship in relation to real time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a real "on their way to something" chapter, as not much happens action-wise. But words are spoken, boundaries broken and, well, I will say, as someone who knows where things are headed….take the simplicities of these early days to heart and hang onto the fluff while you can. I _do_ realize I’ve dropped you off waiting for something to happen, but stick with me....it's coming.

———————————

> _I look out the window and I see the lights and the skyline and the people on the street rushing around looking for action, love, and the world’s greatest chocolate chip cookie, and my heart does a little dance._  
>  -Nora Ephron

\-------------------

Helena calls Myka on Thursday to solidify plans for Friday. It’s agreed Myka will stay the night and watch Christina while Helena works, but beforehand they’ll meet for dinner.

Friday evening, Myka drops her things off at Helena's apartment, then Myka, Helena, and Christina amble a few short blocks to a nearby restaurant. Their pace slows as they approach their destination.

Myka peeks in the window and counts maybe twenty tables and few booths, all made of light wood, wine glasses at the ready on the place settings. A display case full of decadent pies and cakes sits next to a tiny bar.

"Have you dined here before, Myka?” Helena inquires humbly.

“No, but I’ve heard their breakfasts are really great." Myka scans the menu hanging in the window.

“Their evening fare is exceptional as well.”

"I didn’t realize it was so close by the apartment, or I’d have stopped by earlier.” Myka looks over at Helena from the menu. “This looks great, Helena, but isn't it a little ... pricey? You shouldn't go out of your way for me." She tilts her head, suddenly unsure of how to handle the fact that Helena's relationship with money is quite different from her own.

“We come here often with Claudia.” Helena grimaces and places a hand on top of Christina’s head, guiding her close. "Christina and I split a burger and fries as the portions are quite large—"

“I want banana pancakes,” Christina blurts, eyeing Helena with conviction.

Helena purses her lips and arches a brow. “I think not. I believe Aunt Claudia’s exact words were 'bouncing off the walls’ in relation to your behavior following our last pancakes-for-dinner foray."

Christina pouts. “Banana pie?" She blinks demurely, flashing an innocent grin.

Helena breathes a deep, resigned sigh. "Yes, pie. But we’ll share."

“Yay!” Christina claps lightly while jumping up and down.

Myka watches the two with an acquiescent smile. “Well ok, then."

Helena holds the door as they enter and the hostess immediately seats them at a booth by the front window.

Their server soon arrives and scans the table. “Hey H.G., Christina, no Claudia today?”

"She's ‘working,' Bobby. In San Francisco. At a conference.” Helena nods towards Myka. "This is Myka."

Myka gives a friendly smile. “Hi, Bobby."

"Nice to meet you, Myka.” Bobby’s eyes dart studiously between Helena and Myka. His lips form a small, knowing smirk.

"This is Myka's first time here.” Helena glances at Myka warmly.

"Really?” Bobby sits across from Myka. “Let me tell you what we're all about…"

Conversation is kept on the light side as food is ordered, served, and consumed. Christina expounds upon her school work, Myka discusses an upcoming show at the gallery while Helena compares and critiques food options in the neighborhood.

Soon after dinner is cleared, banana chocolate pie is requested and shared. The slice looks so delectable that Myka can’t resist enjoying a bite or two.

Bobby returns to ask about their meal, then engages Helena and Christina in small talk. He winks at Myka as he leaves their check.

“Let me get this,” Helena reaches out to grab the bill.

Myka thrusts a hand on top to stop her. “Helena, no. Let me.”

Helena sets her jaw and narrows her eyes testily at Myka.

Myka shrinks back. “Well at least let me pay for mine, Ok? I got the special tacos and my lime squash wasn’t, you know, virgin."

Helena raises a brow, lips forming a slight sneer, “Is chivalry entirely dead? Does paying for one's own dinner whilst on a ‘date’ not seem rather uncouth?”

Myka’s heart gently melts at the thought of the evening as a “date." Her eyes soften, voice filling with a hint of disbelief. “You _really_ haven’t done this much, have you?"

“I—” Helena barks gruffly, “—well, no." She averts her eyes.

Myka glances at Christina, who’s been following the discussion avidly. “Do you ever sometimes think,” she pauses to find the right words, raising a finger to her lips, “think your mom’s not really from this century?"

Christina glances at Helena, brows knitting in confusion, then back at Myka.

“Maybe she’s from the past or something." Myka’s mouth forms and open-mouthed, lopsided, half-smile as she gazes at Helena with sentimental wonder. “Or maybe she traveled through time just to be here with us.”

Helena's lips purse but curl up at the ends, clearly amused at the sentiment.

“Ooo! Like Dr. Who?” Christina’s face lights up and she jerks upright. Her eyes grow ever wider as she stares at her mother with a sudden awe.

Helena's attention swings to Christina. “How do you know Dr. Who?”

“Aunt Claudia," Christina explains pertly with a blink. "Sometimes we watch it together; sometimes I watch it by myself when she's working.”

Helena gives a querulous pout, not entirely sure she approves of this information.

Myka tries to remember what she knows about Dr. Who. Her nose scrunches as her head cocks to the side and she squints at Helena, examining her as if she's an unidentifiable object. “H.G. Wells, time traveller. This is sounding vaguely familiar.”

Helena juts out a lip and throws Myka a playful scowl.

Myka abruptly turns to Christina. “Wait, isn't Dr. Who an alien?"

“Mom's an _alien_!” Christina emits an exhuberant giggle while bouncing up and down in her seat. She collapses onto Helena and envelops her in a massive hug.

Helena hastily lifts her arms then settles them around Christina. Her lips curve warmly as she glances down at her brightly grinning daughter.

She sighs deeply, she then looks up at Myka, lightly shaking her head.

Myka flashes a sheepish smile and lifts a hand to rub the back of her neck.

Christina suddenly bursts out, “Aunt Claudia says Mom’s an old stuffy—"

Helena swiftly lays a hand over Chistina’s mouth. “Perhaps that’s enough for tonight."

Myka snickers, thinking this conversation has definitely taken a turn toward the absurd.

Helena's expression levels. “Alright. We'll split the bill if that’s what you want.” She slowly lowers her hand from Christina's mouth. Christina grabs it and pulls it tightly around her middle.

“That works for me.” Myka nods in tiny strokes, agreeing though she's sure her portion is more than theirs. She silently vows to find a way to work it out later.

The bill is paid and the three exit the restaurant, but linger outside. Christina sits on a bench while Myka and Helena stand nearby.

“Myka, I—” Helena drops her eyes and, hands in pockets, shuffles a foot on the ground, “I’m sorry I have to go. I hope you don’t mind being the on call sitter this evening."

“Helena, I don’t mind at all. I like seeing Christina." She glances at Christina with a warm half-grin, then turns back to Helena, half-grin rising to brilliantly full. “Seeing both of you."

“You’ll take my bed,” Helena urges, eyes pleading.

“I know the drill.” Myka reaches out and fingers then straightens Helena’s collar, gingerly smoothing it down, hands slowing to rest lightly on Helena’s collarbones. “It’ll be nice to see you in the morning."

“Indeed,” Helena mouths tenderly.

“Mom, I’m sleepy,” Christina announces with a whine.

Both pairs of eyes swing toward Christina.

Myka drops her arms. “We’d better get you home.” She turns to Helena, “And you better to get to work."

“Indeed,” Helena answers dourly.

Helena leans in and places a soft kiss on Myka's lips. “Sweet dreams,” she mouths fondly, then turns to address Christina. Her lips part but before she speaks something behind the window catches her eye.

Myka looks over and sees the waitstaff huddled behind the bar, watching the scene play out between Helena and herself. They scatter as Myka and Helena’s gazes meet theirs, but Bobby remains and gives them a thumbs up.

Helena nods deeply while Myka looks away, mouth forming a bashful grin.

Christina twists and climbs on the bench to see what’s happening.

Helena attempts to divert Christina’s attention. “Come give us a hug, love, then off I go."

Christina slides off the bench and shuffles over to Helena, wrapping her arms tightly around Helena's hips. “I don't want you to go."

Helena crouches down to look Christina in the eye. "I’m sorry, dear, but I must. You’ll be alright with Myka, won’t you?"

Christina looks over at Myka and nods her head. “Yeah."

“Come on, let's get you home.” Myka gives a half-smile and extends a hand.

Helena hugs Christina then runs her fingers tenderly through her hair. She gives her a loving kiss on the forehead before releasing her into Myka’s care.

Christina takes a few tentative steps then reaches up and accepts Myka’s hand.

Helena momentarily locks glances with Myka, then spins around and walks off.

Myka and Christina turn and make their way back to the apartment.

\--------------------------

Lying on her side, facing the wall, Myka blinks awake at the sensation of an arm stealthily sliding around her stomach. She feels a warm body snuggle up close, agilely conforming to her position. A nose nuzzles nimbly through her dense tresses, intimately grazing then resting on her neck. A cool, deep breath skims across her skin followed quickly by a visceral, warm outward draft, causing a light electric pulse to radiate from her neck all the way down her spine.

“Myka, your scent is absolutely intoxicating,” Helena whispers adoringly.

Myka feels her mouth form a drowsy, appreciative smile, but her eyes won’t fully open.

Helena pulls Myka in tighter, her soft lips pressing firmly against Myka’s sensitive skin.

Myka lets out a guttural “mmmm…” as a heavy breath escapes her throat. She gently shrugs into Helena’s touch and twists her body to face her, but Helena holds her steadily in place.

“Don’t."

Lifting up on an elbow, Helena slips her arm from Myka’s torso, slowly sliding it up and over the curves of Myka’s side, deftly following the slope of her shoulder down and across the slope her neck. She threads her fingers lightly through Myka's hair and affectionately combs through using even, tender strokes.

“Sleep."

Caught between lucidity and slumber, Myka complies, body slackening, settling, blissfully drinking in Helena’s gentle caresses. With a warmth in her belly and a content smile covering her face, she soon dozes off.

\--------------

Myka gently wakes at the feel of the bed moving.

"Helena?" She doesn’t remember falling asleep.

The bed seems to be vibrating as if something is bouncing.

"Christina?" She says a little more assuredly.

A tiny high pitched giggle fills the air.

"Where's your mom?” The last thing she remembers is Helena by her side.

"On the couch,” Christina states plainly, as if Myka should already know.

“W-what time is it?” Myka feels a sharp pang of déjà vu.

"Wait, no, I'll check." She rolls over and reaches out a long arm, flipping her phone towards her. She squints at the numbers on the screen.

8:00 am. A half an hour earlier than the last time this happened. Paws are suddenly kneading her leg.

“Dewy?” she mouths slowly. She lays down the phone and rolls onto her back, then looks up at a grinning, bouncing Christina. “Can you feed him, honey?" She unintentionally yawns. “Then we'll get you some breakfast."

“Ok!" Christina clambers onto the floor.

Myka sinks into the sheets, thinking if this is how today is already starting, it’s going to be very long indeed.

She peels herself out of bed, shuffles into the kitchen and quietly rushes over to assist Christina, who teeters on her tiptoes on the step stool reaching for the cat food. Grabbing Christina by the waist, she helps her pull the box off the shelf, then holds her steady as she climbs down.

Myka turns toward the living room and notices Helena's form lies exposed, blanket having fallen onto the floor in a puddle. Her gaze sweeps over Helena’s form, noting one arm above her head as her head tilts to the side, mouth slightly open, midriff peeking out of her bunched up tank top, legs slightly bent and angled down, feet bare.

Helena seems so relaxed and serene, Myka muses to herself, more so than she’s ever seen. Her lips curve up on one side as she decides perhaps her presence is responsible.

A subtle tic tic tic sound tickles Myka’s ear and she swiftly turns to investigate. She finds Christina kneeling, pouring food into Dewy’s bowl, Dewy’s head jammed underneath, kibble spilling like water over his skull and onto the floor.

Christina giggles.

Myka sighs. "Silly Dewy,” she says softly and pinches her lips, moving her head in tiny strokes back and forth.

Christina stops pouring and sets the box down.

Dewy shakes his head, kibble flying left and right.

Christina begins to scoop food off the floor and into Dewy's a bowl.

"It's ok honey, just leave it. We'll clean it up later.” Myka decides Dewy might just eat it anyway, so, whatever.

"Is everything alright?" A crackly voice inquires from the living room.

Myka twists to face Helena, who is now sitting upright, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, mouth widening to form an enormous yawn. Myka's lips involuntarily part as she watches Helena's back arch, arm muscles tensing, shaking, then slackening as she stretches. Helena looks absolutely adorable in her dozy, tousled state, she thinks, and grins thoughtfully as she recognizes she’s one hundred percent free to think these kinds of thoughts now.

Helena combs a hand roughly through her hair then rolls her neck around, catching Myka’s eye as her head stills.

Myka lifts a hand, anxiously threading her fingers through her own hair, suddenly feeling self-conscious about her wild locks. She stares blankly at Helena for a moment, then remembers Helena asked a question.

“Everything's fine. We’re fine. You’re fine. Lie back down, relax. I’ll get breakfast for Christina." Myka blinks then drops her hand.

“I can make it myself,” Christina proudly interjects.

Myka sluggishly glances at Christina, then back toward Helena.

Helena shrugs noncommittally.

Myka raises a brow and turns to Christina. “Go for it."

Christina crosses the kitchen and climbs the stepstool to reach the cereal.

Myka moves toward Helena and drops down heavily on the couch.

Helena crumples over, leaning weightily on Myka.

Myka stretches an arm around Helena's back and pulls her in close. “I thought you were still in bed with me this morning."

“Oh. I—” Helena glances conscientiously toward Christina, who serenely pours cereal into a bowl. “We've not had that conversation just yet."

Myka angles her eyes and tilts her head down to catch Helena’s gaze. “No, I mean, it was really nice to wake up thinking you were there, that you could be there."

"Oh." Helena grins warmly and snuggles in close.

Christina carefully crosses the room and sets her nearly overflowing cereal bowl on the coffee table. She hops on the couch next to Myka.

Myka squints at the contents of Christina's bowl. “I see cereal, but what’s the other thing?

“Banana,” Christina squawks, shovelling in a mouthful of food.

Helena sits up. “Did you cut it up this time?"

“Yeah,” Christina answers flatly.

Helena spills across Myka’s lap to inspect Christina’s cereal. “Cutting it in half does not count, young lady. Here, let me.” She leans further forward, stomach now resting on Myka’s thighs, hand reaching out to intercept Christina’s spoon.

Christina hunches over, covering her bowl protectively with both hands.

“Fine.” Helena’s arm drops onto the sofa. She purses her lips and looks plaintively up at Myka.

Myka sits stiffly, caught in the crossfire between mother and daughter.

Helena slowly slides off of Myka’s lap and back into sitting position. “Christina simply adores bananas. They’d compliment her every meal if she had her way."

Christina talks while chewing. “I saw this thing on TV, where they lit bananas on fire, it was _so cool_."

Myka feels like she knows what that is. “Bananas Foster?"

“Yeah! I want Mom to make that. Or Aunt Claudia.” Christina nods while chomping a chunk of banana.

“She’s also quite fond of the food channel,” Helena adds factually.

“Ahh," Myka slowly shakes her head up and down. She sinks further into the couch, dropping her head back onto the cushion, then stares blankly at the ceiling and sighs. “I hate to say this out loud, but I really should start getting ready for work."

Helena leans snugly onto Myka's shoulder, pressing her body as possessively as possible into Myka’s. “One more minute?”

Myka’s head swivels to rest on Helena’s, and she takes hold of Helena's hand, pulling it across her stomach, lacing their fingers together tightly. She breathes a deep breath and closes her eyes, body slackening, melting effortlessly into Helena’s.

She takes a moment to contemplate her surroundings as she joyfully basks in the warmth of Helena’s lithe form. Situated in this tiny apartment, on this tattered couch, witness to Christina stabbing her banana in her bowl, Dewy licking his food off the floor, and Helena dozing slumped onto her shoulder…she decides that while it may be a weird sort of thing to call heaven, there’s nowhere else in the world she rather be.

\-----------------------------

Myka glowers at her phone then continues fussing in front of the mirror, needlessly insuring her hair is properly contained and her dress is sitting flat.

Helena sidles up behind her, snaking her arms intimately around Myka’s waist.

Myka instinctively leans into Helena's embrace but knows not to get too comfortable. “There’s a car picking me up in five minutes."

Helena pouts, eyeing Myka's reflection keenly in the mirror. "I'm loathed to allow your departure considering your appearance at present."

“What, why? Is there something wrong with my dress?" Myka glares harshly at her reflection.

Helena grins suggestively. “Myka, you glow like vision from a Sargent painting. I’m fearful you'll be lured off the floor by a charismatic artiste and coerced to serve as their muse, then held captive, locked away in their studio."

Myka's eyes meet Helena's in the mirror, mouth forming a playful smirk. “You’ll just have to come rescue me then, won’t you?” She gazes at Helena adoringly.

“Seriously Helena. Sargent? Muse? You know that just adds fuel to my ‘Christina’s mom's from another century’ theory. I mean you must be pushing a hundred." Her lips purse but curl up at the ends.

“Hm.” Helena scours Myka's reflection seductively, having only half-registered Myka’s words. “Your state of dress may be modern, Myka, but your beauty is timeless."

Myka's stomach flutters and her cheeks flush at Helena’s words. With a bashful grin, she places a hand on top of Helena’s and runs her thumb lovingly over a knuckle. “How are you this charming on three hours of sleep?"

“Quite frankly, I was born this way." Helena's mouth insolently curves at the ends as she arches a brow theatrically. She presses her body gently into Myka's and pushes up in her toes, placing a soft, slow kiss behind Myka's ear. “Your dress is lovely, Myka. You’re lovely, Myka.”

Myka’s knees go weak at the feel of Helena’s warm breath on her skin. She slumps helplessly into Helena’s arms.

Helena offers a tender squeeze, then begrudgingly releases her.

Myka takes a moment to compose herself, then scuttles around gathering her things. She meets Helena at the door.

“I-I'm sorry I have to work today.” She casts her eyes down. "And tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?" Helena yelps, bottom lip jutting out into a pout.

“Ummm, yeah," Myka laments, flashing sad eyes. "I’m working at this art fair on Randall’s Island. Have you been there before?"

Helena’s brow wrinkles as she considers this for a moment. “I can’t say that I have."

Myka’s eyes light up. “Maybe you two can visit me! I can get free passes. You can take a subway and bus or there’s a ferry, but I’m not sure how much it costs. I probably can’t leave the booth for very long but you two could walk around and we could get coffee."

Helena nods, flashing a weary but enthusiastic grin. “We’re attending a birthday party this afternoon, but tomorrow, yes."

“Great!” Myka’s head swings toward the window at the faint sound of a car honking.

“I have to go."

Helena promptly opens the door, but Myka doesn’t move. Helena throws her eyes firmly toward the hallway.

“Oh,” Myka mouths, eyes going wide. She swiftly exits.

Helena follows and closes the door behind her. She instantly threads her arms around Myka’s waist and pulls her close, lips crashing in a passionate kiss.

“I’ll ring you later to arrange plans for tomorrow,” Helena announces softly, mouth hovering just above Myka's.

“Uh-huh,” Myka replies dreamily, lips listing forward to contact Helena's again.

Helena releases her hold and takes a step back.

Myka feels slighted by the action but admits to herself she really needs to go. “S-say goodbye to Christina for me?"

“Of course.”

Myka reaches out and cups Helena's jaw, fingers running gingerly across to skim Helena's parted lips. As she registers the feel of Helena’s hot breath quickening, she squeezes her eyes shut and abruptly retracts her hand into a ball.

"Ok, bye,” Myka suddenly huffs and spins on a heel, briskly crossing the hall, promptly descending the stairs.

This was supposed to get easier, she grumbles to herself as she pushes through the building's two front doors. She finds it harder than ever to leave them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you imagine a Myka-from-the-past rocking [this ](http://pictify.saatchigallery.com/133150/sargent-lady-agnew-of-lochnaw-1892-93)right? Because Helena most certainly can.
> 
> Up Next: Art fairs are visited and the idea of lunch-at-work is introduced….
> 
> ED: 12/01


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena and Christina visit Myka at the art fair. Myka meets Helena for lunch at the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roadie generously offered me some sound advice regarding character continuity between g/s-w/w + punctuation, so I took a moment to retool chapters 1-2 ever so slightly (nothing radical, just a nudge here and there and a hell of a lot less ellipses, etc.) Myka, in particular, should read as more nervous than flighty (when appropriate), especially moving forward. But in general, I’m kinda seeing this thing through new eyes, and want to make the effort to holistically take it where it needs to go, instead of the usual running blindly into the wind. If that makes sense to anyone.
> 
> Which reminds me to say out loud, I'm totally into all kinds of comments, folks, including constructive criticism.

—————————

> _“There is more sophistication and less sense in New York than anywhere else on the globe.”_  
>  ― Elbert Hubbard

\-----------------

On Sunday, Myka finds herself as she was on Saturday, firmly planted at booth number seventy-five, answering questions, making referrals and occasionally selling the odd piece of art. The gallery's booth is a prominent one, situated on the end of a row, displaying a variety of sculpture, painting, photographs and other miscellany.

Helena and Christina arrive around noon and make their way across the modern, expansive, open planned building.

Christina spies Myka first and runs over to greet her. “Myka!”

Myka rises from her folding chair and smiles. “Hey, Christina!"

Christina gives Myka a quick hug but swiftly moves on, her attention caught by a towering sculpture in the shape of an oversized truck tire. She totters over and smacks her hand, palm down, on the surface. Her eyes go wide and she swings her head enthusiastically toward Helena. "Mom it's hard like a rock! And cold!"

“I thought we agreed, no touching.” Helena rushes over and removes Christina's hand. She turns toward Myka, eyes full of apology. “I’m terribly sorry."

“It’s ok. Happens all the time.” Myka flashes Helena a diplomatic grin then moves over next to Christina. She crouches down and runs a finger lightly over the sculpture’s surface. "It's made out of marble, like statues at the museum.”

Christina's tiny brows meet “Why?”

“Let's just say because it’s fun.” Myka throws Helena a look of amusement, then bites and wets her bottom lip. She rises and stands next to taller-than-her object.

"How can it be fun if you can't play on it?” Christina asks with the utmost sincerity.

“Well, I guess if you bought it you could play on it. How 'bout that." Myka places a hand on her hip and nods once.

“Mom, can we buy it?” Christina twirls toward Helena, eyes pleading.

Helena's face pinches. “How on earth would we maneuver it up the stairs?"

Christina blinks demurely, then glares at Helena with her best puppy dog eyes.

Helena purses her lips. "Honestly, Christina, it’s massive! Exactly where would you imagine we’d we put it?"

“In my room! With pillows in the middle so I could sleep in it. Dewy too!" Christina bounces on her toes.

Helena gives a resigned sigh then eyes Myka plaintively. “World’s first cat bed made of stone."

Myka smirks. “I bet they had them in ancient Egypt, too.”

“Myka, don’t—” Helena cocks her head, brow lowering, voice filled with a hint of warning. She glances at Christina.

Christina stares intensely at her mother, face beaming with a toothy, cheeky grin.

“Coffee?" Myka blurts out nervously.

“Posthaste,” Helena mumbles while throwing Christina a stern eye.

Myka signals to her coworker “Thad, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes? Call me if you need anything, Ok?"

Myka spins around and finds Helena standing immediately behind her wearing a small pout. “We haven’t properly said hello."

“Hello.” Myka’s mouth forms a bright, crooked smile. She leans in for a brief kiss.

Helena’s eyes dart, mid-kiss, to a point behind Myka. “Christina! Stop. Right. There."

\--------------------

Myka, Helena, and Christina walk slowly from the booth to a nearby coffee stand. They're served quickly, but the seating area is packed. Myka and Helena decide to stand at a raised table. Helena faces the fair floor, Myka faces outdoors. Christina shuffles toward the window, lemonade in hand, enthralled by the activity of a ferry loading and unloading on the dock.

“See anything interesting yet?” Myka’s curious what Helena thinks of the fair, but quickly realizes she’s not sure how familiar Helena might be with contemporary art, or if she has any interest in art at all. She silently vows to discuss the topic more in depth at a later date.

“We dawdled on our way to meet you, but we haven’t browsed as of yet.” Helena takes a demure sips of her coffee while viewing Myka fondly over the rim.

“My friend Amanda has some work at a booth little further down." Myka nods her head to the left, deciding to say something directional, in case Helena needs a place to start in this behemoth of spectacle.

"There’s a sculpture that looks like...a big umbrella with a desk attached to it, with gold trim. It’s really big. You can’t miss it.” Her nose scrunches as she searches for the right words.

“Alright.” Helena’s tone feigns a vague interest.

“Oh, but the photos! Mm-maybe don’t look at them too closely. Or at all. At least not with Christina.” Myka's face puckers.

“Oh?” Helena's brows meet querulously.

Myka tries to fight the beginning of a blush. She takes a nervous sip of her drink. “Her use of the body. You don’t see it right away, but when you do you can’t unsee it.”

Helena shakes her head up and down, mouth slightly open, clearly perplexed. “I’ll … just take your word for it."

“The sculptures, though. Ok for kids.” Myka raises her brows as her tone lightens.

"Speaking of children, mine seems to have wandered off." Helena twists around, scanning the area.

Myka smiles smugly and throws her eyes toward the window behind Helena. "She’s over there. I’ve been keeping tabs.”

“Oh, really?” Helena grins back, clearly enamored with Myka’s vigilance.

She turns to locate Christina, then swings back toward Myka. “I find it curious; while you appear a trifle squeamish regarding the notion of children, you’re actually quite good with them."

Myka’s eyes widen as her neck cranes up. “I am?”

“You are.” Helena nods soundly, tone flat. “I can assure you most people would _not_ casually be 'keeping tabs' on my child.”

Myka smiles shyly. "Well, I mean, Christina’s special."

“You’re special, Myka.” Helena places a soft, appreciative kiss on Myka’s lips and slowly draws back.

The pair gaze quietly at each other for a moment until Helena places an elbow on the table and drops her chin into her hand. “Tell me all about your weekend thus far.”

Myka grins warmly, eyes still starry from Helena's kiss. “It’s funny being on the ‘inside’ so to speak. Working for a commercial gallery is totally different from working at a museum. The selling part is really important.” She drops her eyes and swirls the dregs of her drink.

“Have you fared well in that arena?” Helena asks earnestly.

Myka lightly nods. “A few things, yeah. And, I get a nice commission.” She looks up at Helena, lips curving amiably.

“Good for you,“ Helena says with conviction.

“Speaking of…” Myka feels a buzz and lets out a sigh. She waves her phone and checks her messages, glancing at Helena with sad eyes. “Ugh, this guy. He’s stopped by twice but won’t bite. I have to go.”

“We’ll accompany you back.” Helena turns towards the windows. “Christina! Come along."

The three travel discuss the art on view as they travel down the hallway and sluggishly round the corner toward Myka's booth. There behind the desk stands a thin, light-haired, scraggly, mustachioed man in his early sixties. He flashes a limp smile and waves weakly.

Myka gives a tiny wave back and tilts her head toward Helena. "That's Hugo. He's a nice guy and all…totally loaded, but really stubborn. He wants to buy that painting.” She throws her eyes toward a large square canvas. “But it's part of a diptych.” Her eyes travel to a second painting hanging mere inches from the first.

"I see.” A mischievous twinkle forms in Helena’s eye. Her gaze darts between the two paintings, then hones in on Hugo. She steps in front of Myka, halting her in her tracks. She takes hold of her hands.

"Say goodbye to us, then walk right up and attend to Hugo. We’ll hover nearby, but don't introduce us. Act normal, and when the time comes, follow my lead."

“Ok?” Myka's forehead wrinkles heavily.

Helena gives Myka kiss on the cheek, releases her hands then crouches down to speak with Christina. “Myka has to work right now, but we’re going to look at the art behind her, all right?”

“Yeah.” Christina replies with true indifference while nonchalantly sipping her lemonade.

Helena rises, extends a hand to Christina then meanders towards the edge of the booth.

Myka moves to join Hugo by the table.

Myka greets Hugo, then both turn to survey the paintings. Myka repeats the conversation they had on Saturday, explaining the work is a diptych, that they were created to be shown together and the artist won't sell the canvases separately.

Hugo reiterates that he only wants to buy one.

"Pardon me for eavesdropping, but I'm intrigued by your preference for one image over the other." Helena steps in from the side.

Hugo startles and turns toward Helena.

Helena flashes an innocent grin.

Hugo furrows his brow at Helena, glances briefly at Christina, then points to the painting on the left. “I-I-I like the green. That one has green.” He swings his finger to the right. “And th-th-that one doesn’t."

Helena places a hand on her hip and rubs her chin while eyeing both paintings intently. "That can't be all, can it?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Hugo blurts anxiously.

“I _mean_...there’s a synergy between the two, a sort of symbiosis.” She steps closer to the wall and swirls her left hand clockwise in front of the left painting. "The green color we see here morphs into the deep purple over there.” Her right hand swirls counterclockwise in front of the right painting.

Completely mesmerized, Hugo’s wide-eyed gaze follows Helena’s motions.

Helena twists to address Hugo directly. She splays her left hand towards the left painting, “The green, unaccompanied, displays an implausible level of innocence.” Her hand jerks across to the right. “While the purple becomes disastrously menacing on its own.” She turns to view both paintings at once, then sweeps her hands together until her palms touch.

She spins around to face Hugo and drops her arms. “They’re inextricably bound, you see. Unable to find a balance in the absence of each other’s presence."

Hugo’s mouth goes slacken as he tilts his head, hand reaching up to touch cheek. His eyes narrow, wavering between the two paintings.

Helena scowls then tries a new line. She nods to the purple painting. “Are you aware the majority of plant life on this planet was once that violet hue, as opposed to viridian?”

Hugo frowns and flinches back, shoulders tightening, seemingly dubious of Helena’s abrupt segue.

“Isn’t that correct, Christina?" Helena smiles warmly at Christina, who stands nearby. She extends both hands in Christina’s direction.

Christina sets down her lemonade and grasps Helena’s hands, placing her much smaller feet on top of Helena’s. She leans back while tugging on Helena’s arms and twists her head toward Hugo. “Mom’s right."

Hugo’s brows meet and his mouth pinches into a grimace. His nostrils flare as his eyes dart nervously between Christina and Helena.

Helena pushes on. "The earth was once covered with microbes that reflected blues and reds. Blues and reds, of course, when mixed together, create purple.” She throws her eyes in the direction of the purple painting and swings Christina to the right. Her eyes then motion towards the green painting and Christina swings to the left. “These microbes devoured all the green wavelengths, converting them into energy, into life.”

Helena pulls Christina toward her and releases her hands, smiling warmly as she catches Christina’s eye.

Christina grins ear to ear and gives a short giggle, then toddles off toward Myka.

Helena’s face blanks as she turns to address Hugo.

"When a new microbe appeared on the scene, it found could not survive off green wavelengths alone and adapted.” She points to the green painting as if it were a location a weather map. "Instead of a singular green wavelength, this new microbe fed off of two: red _and_ blue.” Her hand swings across to point to the purple. “This doubled the green's chances for survival, allowing it to flourish and eventually dominate the planet."

Hugo listens studiously. His while face pinches as he squints at the paintings. “Ok, sure. But what do plants have to do with anything?"

Helena steps back, turns toward the paintings and cups her chin. "I believe this work discusses the primacy of that struggle, the two are irrefutably linked, and therefore, it’s simply impossible to separate. Can you not see that?” She spins toward Hugo, eyes filled with utter sincerity.

Hugo glares at Helena, brows smashed together, mouth slightly agape. “I-I-Irrefutably?"

“Undeniably.” Helena nods in tiny strokes as her gaze floats between the paintings. “It’s beyond question. Don't you agree Myka?" She turns spiritedly towards Myka and Christina.

“Uh...” Myka’s eyes dart from Helena to the paintings, then to the side as notices a crowd has formed and are completely enthralled by Helena’s pitch. She cocks her head and squints at both paintings. “Yeah. Definitely."

“Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?” Hugo grumbles as his head nods up and down awkwardly. He turns to Myka, exasperated. “Obviously, I’ll take both. You can’t possibly separate them now.”

Myka’s eyes light up. “That's great! Why don’t you take a seat.” She glances at her assistant, "Thad, could you start the paperwork? I’ll be there in a minute.” She turns and walks a few steps toward Helena, eyes beaming with awe.

Helena smirks knowingly. "School project. Plants. Someone had more questions than her book had answers." Helena glares lovingly at Christina. ”We learn quite a lot from the internet, don’t we, love?"

Christina fidgets anxiously. “I guess. Can we go now? I wanna sit in that cool chair with the paint like that other kid did.” She grabs Helena's hand and gives it a tug.

Helena gives Myka a resigned brow raise, but speaks in Christina’s direction. “Very well."

Christina pulls Helena away from the booth, but Myka grabs Helena's elbow.

"Thank you," she says with a warm reverence, placing a brief kiss on Helena's lips.

“Thank me properly, later.” Helena’s lip raises, tone sultry, eyes shining bright. “Perhaps following a lovely mea—"

“Mom, _come on_ ,” Christina restlessly urges, clearly tired of being delayed by boring adults.

Helena throws Myka an apologetic eye and hurries to join Christina. The two quickly merge with flow of foot traffic in the aisle and disappear into the crowd.

\---------------------------

On Monday, Myka receives a cryptic text.

_-Lunch, hotel, tomorrow?_

Myka's eyes light up. She checks her schedule and replies immediately.

_-Sure! What time?_

_-Spectacular. Around 1:00ish. Bring a sandwich._

\-------------------------------

On Tuesday morning, Myka fumbles through work, nerves on edge, more excited than ever to be meeting Helena. She reminds herself it’s _only_ lunch, nothing special, yet she labored all morning over her outfit, ultimately deciding to wear one she feels accentuates her curves just right: a simple form-fitting ribbed cotton knit dress, culminating mid-thigh, made up of large bands of black separated by thin white horizontal stripes. Her hair is up in a neat but loose bun and accompanied by dangly hoop earrings. A tasteful necklace frames her exposed neck.

Helena spots Myka instantly as she enters the room. She briskly steps out from behind the bar and strides over to greet her, offering a light kiss on the cheek.

“Hi," Myka says breathily, wearing a crooked, warm grin.

“Hello," Helena beams back, eyes sparkling.

They stare into each other’s eyes, utterly transfixed, until a customer walking by startles them into the present.

Helena takes a step back and lets her eyes drink in Myka’s form, searing a path down to her ankles. “I thought we might frequent the terrace.“ Her lips fall open, head listing to the side as her gaze burns back up. “There's a lovely view."

Their eyes meet and Myka swallows. “Yeah."

Helena’s lips form an almost predatory grin. She spins around and informs her co-worker she's taking lunch. Ushering Myka to the elevator, she pushes the call button and stands rocking back and forth on her heels, hands in pockets, head down but eyes angled up, staring intensely at Myka.

Myka gazes back, lips curving up warmly at the ends as she notes Helena's cheeks are slightly flushed. Her pulse rises just looking at her.

The doors open and they step in. Myka looks down at Helena’s hands. "Where's your lunch?"

Helena arches an elegant brow, voice rich, low, and suggestive. “I thought I’d nibble some of yours."

Myka smiles shyly and drops her eyes.

The pair travels skyward in silence, trading impassioned glances from across the car. Myka’s eyes meet Helena’s then drop dramatically as her conscious floods with a desperate yearning, the overwhelming desire to touch rises feverishly from the pit of her stomach. Unfamiliar yet vestigial, she decides, as if lying dormant, patiently waiting for this very moment to arise. She breathes in a cleansing breath and tries to calm herself, vowing to not overanalyze and instead let things play out as they will.

Her eyes flick to Helena’s hands, now clasped in front of her, fingers lean, strong, yet soft and tender, always so purposeful, knowing exactly what to do, where to go. She recalls the feel of Helena's hands on her skin and imagines them touching her right now, suddenly fathoming the trope of two people falling all over each other upon entering an elevator. Her gaze moves to catch Helena’s, but she swiftly averts her eyes, slightly embarrassed by her risqué thoughts.

Her mind shifts irrationally, replaying the awkward kissing, and graceless fumbling of past romantic encounters. She's always thought things could have been better, that something wasn't right, but rationalized her experiences by imagining she was doing something wrong, she was the one at fault. Her thoughts drift to Sam, who, while undeniably sweet and loving, was never truly passionate. She’s often wondered if her standards were too high, unrealistic, ultimately resigning herself to the notion that things with Sam were probably as good she would ever get.

As she stands gazing directly at Helena, she decides she was wrong, that an unquantifiable, elemental attraction does exist, and she can be the object caught in its grasp. The proof stands before her, housed in a pair of tight black jeans and a loose-fitting button down, avidly studying the elevator control panel. She realizes with Helena she doesn’t overthink and instead wants, needs, _takes_ without first asking permission. Her body moves on instinct like never before, the sensation both terrifying and exhilarating all at once. She knows she can’t help herself. She’s completely and utterly hooked.

The elevator comes to a gentle halt as they reach the twentieth floor. Helena holds the door and Myka graciously steps out, entering into a large banquet hall.

Helena walks a short ways across the floor and strides behind the bar. She places her elbows on the counter and threads her fingers together and points her hands across the room. “The terrace is out there, but I thought I’d show you this first.” She turns and takes a few steps, stopping by a nondescript door.

Myka narrows her eyes but intuitively follows.

“I’ll admit it's not much but I’m expected back on the floor in twenty minutes.” Helena turns the door handle and enters the room. She flips switch and the lights flicker on.

Myka now sees it’s small storeroom full of boxes. Her lips lift slowly, forming a knowing, eager grin.

Helena grins back smugly.

Myka activates, crossing the threshold with resolve, absently dropping her purse, pulling the door closed with a bang. She grabs Helena by the collar and twirls around, pulling back until her shoulders hit the shelves and Helena crashes into her. Their lips met hungrily, teeth gnashing, mouths searching, tongues twisting, thrusting, catching.

Myka’s hands fly up and her fingers thread possessively through Helena's silky mane. She breaks the kiss for a fraction of a second, sucking in a deep, lusty breath.

"You planned this.”

“Yes.”

Myka lets out a whimper as Helena’s lips cover hers again, hands moving to circle Myka’s waist. Helena lets her mouth wander, words slipping out as her lips trail toward Myka's neck.

“This delightful tube you’re wearing..."

“Mmm?” Myka’s eyes flutter shut as her lips gently curve up.

“Is delectable to the eye.”

Helena’s lips hover just above Myka’s ear. Myka shivers lightly at the feel of Helena’s breath.

“But rather impenetrable to the touch.”

Helena lovingly nudges Myka’s earring out of the way and nips at an earlobe with her teeth. Her hands graze up Myka’s arching back to rest squarely on her shoulder blades.

“And perhaps.” Helena’s lips increase their pressure, trailing leisurely down Myka’s neck.

“Testing the boundaries.” Her words glide over Myka's skin.

“Of decency.” She places an open mouthed kiss the apex of Myka’s collarbone.

“Were I to navigate.” Her breath scorches across the slope of Myka’s clavicle.

“Beneath your garment.” She pulls back a fraction, eyes lingering on the generous V of Myka’s dress.

“At this present stage.” Her hands rake south, resting on the small of Myka’s back

“Of our relationship.” Helena beams at Myka wearing a truly sinful grin.

Myka swallows. Her brow wrinkles as her head pulls back.

“I-I just wanted to look nice for you. I didn’t know we’d be—” She catches Helena’s lips with her own, incensed but aroused by Helena's taunting, thinking “decency" can surely go to hell.

Myka slides her fingers under Helena’s elbows and wraps her arms around her, impatiently tugging Helena’s shirt tail up, slipping her hands beneath Helena’s undershirt.

Helena twitches as Myka’s fingers scrape over bare skin, skimming roughly over the scars left from her accident. Her mouth abruptly disengages from Myka's.

"Your ‘garment’? Definitely easier than mine." Myka briefly mimics Helena's accent while grinning smugly, mouth moving to hover just above Helena’s ear. She places a kiss the juncture of cheekbone and jaw, and grazes her hands forward to stroke Helena’s taut abs.

Myka holds her hands steady, blissfuly drinking in the feel of Helena’s diaphragm contracting, then releasing. Their breath syncs with a rhythm deep and heavy.

She gently rests her forehead on Helena’s. ““This ‘stage’ thing.” Could we maybe fast-forward?”

Myka's eyes angle down, hands moving on their own volition, fingers skimming up, slowly combing over each of Helena’s ribs, drifting laterally at boundary of skin and soft, stretchy fabric. Her mind races with anticipation, faintly aware of her bold actions.

Helena’s forehead presses further into Myka’s. She nods minutely.

Myka's fingers tuck effortlessly under tight elastic and slide up, cupping soft, supple, skin.

Helena's head tips back as she inhales sharply, mouth falling open. She exhales slowly, her body collapsing into Myka's, head dropping limply onto Myka’s shoulder.

Myka closes her eyes and grins wildly as she nuzzles her nose into Helena's hair. Her body thrums with desire as the fierce energy flowing between them overpowers any sense of propriety she may have once displayed. Helena's skin feels amazing, she thinks, this experience truly transformative and potentially addictive; the fit of her hands seems so right, she’s not sure she’ll ever let go.

Myka nudges Helena’s head further toward the side, navigating her parted lips slowly through Helena’s thick, dark locks. As she presses insistently into the crook of Helena's neck, Helena releases a low, breathy moan and Myka falls limp, overcome by a swell of arousal. Her ears perk up as the sound of idle chatter registers from behind the door.

“ _—and this is the—_ ” a gruff male voice explains as it passes their location.

Myka’s hands reluctantly slide down and out from Helena's shirt.

Helena takes a step back and whispers “the door" with a hearty nod.

Myka slinks quietly across the tiny room and turns the knob slowly, locking it as silently as possible.

Helena throws her eyes over to the switch. “And the light.”

Myka flicks it off and room falls dark save a thin strip of light beaming from underneath. She stands motionless, suddenly frightened of being caught for Helena’s sake.

“Come here,” Helena impatiently whispers from across the room.

Myka moves blindly in the direction of Helena's voice and collides breathlessly into her arms. Helena's mouth stumbles as it searches for Myka’s at first kissing an eye, then a nose, eventually pressing roughly against Myka’s lips.

Helena's hands scrape reverently up Myka's back and reverse course at her shoulders, increasing pressure as they slide downwards, slipping below her waist, stopping mere inches from the edge of her skirt. Her fingers clench and dig deeply through knit fabric, probing warm, pliable, dense flesh.

Myka gasps. Her hips thrust forward and Helena’s pelvis cants to meet them, fervently seeking contact.

Myka’s back arches and Helena echoes the movement, bodies heaving as close as possible. Her hands dive into Helena’s hair and she tugs gently, pulling Helena's mouth toward her, deepening the kiss.

She abruptly pulls back and tries to find Helena’s eyes but it’s too dark. Listing forward, she lets her lips hover over the feel of Helena’s warm breath. “Let’s skip ahead. We can blame the dress."

Helena instantly locks lips with Myka, hands slipping down the back of Myka’s thighs, fingers curling under the hem of her dress, inching the fabric up, over—

The pair startles as a loud, rough voice sounds outside the door. _“In here we have the—“_

The doorknob rattles.

Myka stiffens, heart racing. She pushes Helena away and immediately pulls down her dress.

“ _Huh. Locked. Let me just—_ "

The room fills with the sound of keys rattling then fitting in the lock and straining to turn.

Helena steps in close and whispers to Myka, “It’s alright, I have the key."

The knob rattles again.

“ _I guess I don’t— Well, anyway, as you can see—_ ”

The voice fades and the footsteps recede.

Myka breathes a sigh of relief, but her heart still beats out of her chest. She turns towards Helena. “How did you …?"

Helena doesn’t answer.

“You’ve done this before.” Myka has a sudden realization.

Helena quickly explains. “Myka, the entire staff is privy to this location— "

“Yeah, but, not them, I mean you. You’ve done this before. In here. With other women.” Myka's voice cracks as she fruitlessly attempts to keep her the volume low.

“Yes." Helena speaks so softly the word is nearly lost under her breath.

“I thought you said you weren’t into that?” Myka huffs out a breath, agitated though unsure why. She finds her answer as she suddenly recalls Helena’s admission regarding her purported lack of promiscuity.

“I said it didn’t suit me, Myka, that the premise was unappealing.” Helena's voice raises above a whisper. “But as single mother, it’s rather hard to...I-I still have … _had_ , needs.”

Myka senses Helena's energy shrinking away and quickly reaches out a hand, first finding a elbow, then sliding up to grasp Helena's shoulder in an act of reassure. She feels a sudden pang of remorse that perhaps she overreacted.

"It's ok, Helena.”

“Myka—”

“No really, it’s fine. I’m actually kinda glad.” Myka lowers her voice, slowing her words. “And kinda jealous.”

She smirks to herself and takes a step closer to Helena. “And, this just proves you're human, you know. Like the rest of us. Jury’s still out on your real age, though.”

“I can’t say I’m entirely sure myself at times.” Helena's tone cynical but with an underlying hint of mirth.

Myka sniggers quietly once, then drops her arm.

“Myka, I didn’t bring you here to … my intention was certainly not … lunch on the patio would have sufficed. Then you appeared as if a vision, clad in your spectacular dress, and what was I to do?"

Myka's heart quickens as a fresh surge of arousal rises from her core. “I wanted this too, Helena, wanted you. Because honestly? You drive me nuts.” Her hands twitch, but stay by her side.

Both women gaze silently at each other through the darkness, the sound of their labored breathing permeating the room.

Helena lets out a deep sigh. "Perhaps it’s best to take in the view before our allotted time expires." She shuffles a short distance and flips a switch. The room illuminates.

Myka moves to counter and covers Helena's hand with her own, sliding downward. The lights flicker off. “Perhaps it’s best if we do more of this.” She places both hands roughly on Helena's jaw and pulls her into a deep, passionate kiss.

They exit the closet fifteen minutes later, completely breathless. The view is taken in, albeit briefly, and the two reluctantly separate, hurriedly hustling back to their respective places of work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter…..yes, yes, I know, Myka gets a little overexcited and rounds second base, but personally I’m more excited about Helena having a moment to come out of her shell, if ever so briefly. Just wanted to say that out loud, too.
> 
> NEXT UP: Lunch, again, this time with _food_ , and a rainy trip to the beach.
> 
> ED: 12/12


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Lunch, again, this time with food, and a rainy trip to the beach.

——————————

> _As usual in New York, everything is torn down before you have time to care for it._  
>  —James Merrill, “An Urban Convalescence,” from _Water Street_

\-----------------

Helena and Myka try lunch again on Thursday, both agreeing this rendezvous will involve a more traditional sit-down scenario. They meet in the hotel bar then Helena swiftly guides Myka to a higher floor where she tucks them away in a semi-private corner of an open air restaurant.

Their server appears, and Helena introduces him to Myka. He smirks knowingly, then announces the specials. Helena and the waiter gossip about co-workers as Myka peruses the menu.

Myka orders, hands the menu to Helena, then leans back in her chair. A sense of calm washes over her as she takes in the scene in front of her. The restaurant is busy but not packed and a light breeze blows by, cooling the air on this warm late spring day. It's nice to be outside. She glances at Helena and thinks this is probably the first normal date they’ve ever been on. If it counts as that. She smiles anyway just happy to be near Helena.

The server takes his leave and Myka initiates idle conversation, asking Helena about the construction job she’s working for Liam’s father. Helena’s face brightens as she explains they are gutting a tenement that had previously been gutted and renovated in the 1980’s. During the demolition they found a hidden room containing an old boiler and a sealed up air shaft. Upon opening, they found all kinds of ephemera from days long past.

The dialogue shifts as Helena asks Myka how her paintings are shaping up for her exhibition. Myka smiles nervously, then earnestly describes her anxiety over having a little under a week to finish up before installing.

As Myka speaks, Helena moves ever closer and rests her hand on Myka’s thigh. Myka notices Helena eyeing her lips.

“You’re not really listening anymore, are you?”

“I am,” Helena chirps innocently.

“Then what did I just say.” Myka’s lips pinch.

“You’ve been staying up far too late working, and you’re not sure what anything looks like anymore.” Helena's eyes flick up to meet Myka's.

“And?” Myka blinks.

“Why don’t you repeat that last bit after I—"

Helena reaches out a hand and cups Myka’s jaw, gently pulling Myka’s mouth closer to hers. She leans in for a tender yet searing kiss.

She pulls back and laces her fingers together on her lap, giving Myka her full attention. “Please, continue.”

Myka pouts, eyes narrowing playfully at Helena.

Helena smiles smugly, beaming affectionally in return. She places a curl behind Myka’s ear, hand trailing forward, tugging Myka into another kiss.

The guttural sound of a throat being cleared fills the air. Helena disengages and Myka angles her eyes up. Standing in front of the table is the man Myka met the first day she visited to the hotel, Walter, Helena’s boss.

“H.G., I need to speak to you. Now,” Walter grumbles.

Helena scowls but doesn’t turn around.

“In private."

Helena swings around to face Walter and shoots him a deathly glare. “It’s called lunch _hour_ for a reason, Walter. Whatever it is, it can wait."

Walter’s face pinches. “I thought the deal was you didn't take lunch since you leave early to pick up your kid.”

Helena sighs heavily. "I _occasionally_ leave early to pick up my daughter, yes, though I often stay late cleaning up messes once the bar closes.” Her voice rises. “But you’re not here to see that now, are you? Therefore, it doesn't count."

Walter scowls and crosses his arms. “Fine."

Helena narrows her eyes, mouth forming a small sneer. “What is it you really want, Walter.”

Walters opens his mouth to speak but hesitates. He eyes Myka nervously.

Myka smiles warmly in return.

Helena glances at Myka, then back at Walter. Her brows meet. She’s figured something out. “Go on, say it,” she barks.

His eyes dart anxiously between Myka and Helena.

“In front of her?” He nods toward Myka.

“I’m _not_ moving out of this chair.” Helena takes hold of Myka’s hand.

“Right.” Walter eyes the pair’s intertwined hands warily. "You, uh, shouldn’t do that here."

“Do what?” Myka asks innocently.

Walter looks at Helena as if she should answer.

Helena refuses. “Yes, what, Walter. Please, enlighten us.”

Walter purses his lips. “Well, that.” Walter points to their hands. “And, you know, what you were doing before. Here, in public.” He wags his finger between the two of them and glances toward the other patrons.

Helena sneers. “So Jimmy, the busboy, is free to explore the depths of his paramour's throat just yesterday, here, in public, yet I’m denied a demure snog with mine?” Helena gives Myka’s hand a squeeze.

Myka smiles dreamily at Helena at the word “paramour."

“It’s different with—” Walter's eyes dart between Helena and Myka, mouth hanging open. “People like you. I mean the guests might see.” He nervously scans the restaurant.

Myka’s face drops. She gets it. “Really?” She imagined there’d be the occasional friction attached to being in a same-sex relationship, but not here, like this.

Helena glowers at Walter, then purposefully looks away, running her tongue roughly over her teeth. She sets her jaw, lets go of Myka’s hand and stands. “Walter, this is not the La Quinta Inn in South Dakota or wherever they dredged you up from."

“Poughkeepsie,“ Walter quips, raising a finger in the air.

Helena scoffs dismissively and rolls her eyes. She aggressively crosses her arms. “No matter. You’re in New York City now, Walter, and this,” she waves a hand around the restaurant, "is meant to be an edgy ‘downtown' establishment.”

She takes a step closer to Walter. “In fact, this establishment's website explicitly states guests will be provided with an authentic ‘downtown' experience."

Helena steps back and walks behind where Myka is seated. She places her hands squarely on Myka’s shoulders.

"And, for better or worse, two attractive young women sharing an intimate moment in the corner of this restaurant constitutes the very _definition_ of edgy ‘downtown' establishment. Does it not?"

“Uh,” Walter’s eyebrows mash together.

“And if you if still won’t believe me, I suggest you ask the marketing team, the concierge, or anyone who works at this establishment that is not you.” Helena’s voice fills with ire, fingers digging tensely into Myka’s shoulders.

Just then their server swerves around Walter delivering their food. He sets down the plates, then turns to Walter.

“She’s right you know," he places a hand on his hip and throws Walter an indignant eye.

“What?” Walter puffs roughly.

The waiter’s head swings toward Helena, “She’s right,” then back to Walter, “and you’re wrong.” He tilts his head at Walter and sneers weakly while speaking. “Take a good look around you and have a little think.” He taps a finger on the side of his head.

Walter’s nostrils flare.

The server turns to Helena and Myka and points a limply in their direction. “You two are _hot_."

Helena gives a strained smile. “Thank you, Sergio.”

Sergio turns towards Walter. “And by the way, that guy thinks so, too.” His voice fills with disdain as he throws his eyes to a clean-shaven, balding man wearing an expensive suit sitting at the bar.

The man gives a suggestive smile and raises his drink to the table.

“Gross,” Sergio adds before swishing off.

Walter watches Sergio leave, then narrows his eyes at Helena, and walks away in a huff.

Myka feels Helena’s fingers slacken and places her hand on top of Helena’s to comfort her. “Are you ok?"

Helena blows out a breath. “Myka, I’ve had it up to here with that horrid man.” She gives Myka’s shoulders a squeeze, then sits down.

Myka finds herself slightly befuddled by the entire scenario. “Wasn't that your boss?"

“Yes.” Helena mouths icily while stabbing a french fry on her plate.

Myka’s brow wrinkles. “Was that wise, telling him off like that?"

Helena pushes her fries around, then drops her fork. "I was meant to have that job, you know.” She glares at Walter’s back as he speaks to the man at the bar.

“What happened?” Myka eyes Helena worriedly.

“Walter is the nephew of the owner’s wife.” Helena turns to face Myka. “The owners usually have little to do with the daily runnings of the company, but ultimately they can do as they please. Apparently she owed her sister a favor.” She glances at Walter, who is now talking to the hostess. “I was told the situation was temporary, but there is, six months later. And I still do most of his work.” Helena gives a resigned sigh.

Myka’s eyes widen as she has a sudden realization. “That was him, outside the door, upstairs."

“Yes,” Helena states flatly.

Myka _was_ feeling really great about her actions the other day, pleased to have risen to the occasion, having allowed herself to be pushed out of her comfort zone, but now she’s having serious second thoughts. “Does he know we were in there? Is that why he was acting like that?"

“Oh, I don't know.” Helena eyes Myka apologetically. "Perhaps. But do understand, the man is an idiot.”

Myka’s stomach drops as she realizes her overzealous hormones may have put Helena's job further in jeopardy. She drops her eyes and anxiously wrings her hands together. “Helena, I'm sorry if I crossed the line, pushed you inappropriately when we were—"

"I’m completely at fault.” Helena reaches out and stills Myka’s hands. “You deserve far better than to be brought to a closet at work for us to be alone.” She gives Myka’s hands a squeeze then releases them.

"Especially considering my questionable history in said location.” Helena’s chin lowers to her chest, eyes dropping down. She runs a thumb over her knuckles. “I know you’re not that kind of girl, Myka."

“I’m not,” Myka answers immediately and places a hand over Helena’s anxious fingers. “But I could be, for you.” Her lips lift into a bashful half-grin, eyes filling with stars as they meet Helena's. “ _With_ you.”

She runs the back of her hand lightly over Helena's cheek. "Helena, look at me."

Helena’s chin stays down, but her eyes angle up.

"I-I’ve never done that before, out in the world. It was kind of,” her eyes flicker with a fiery desire, “exciting.” Myka’s mouth forms an enthusiastic lopsided half-grin. “And I did wear that dress on purpose, you know."

Helena lifts her head, lips curling warmly at the ends, gaze fixed on Myka’s.

"Not that I'm saying lunch with you isn't just as nice.” Myka looks over at their food, then bites her lip. "Well, _different_ nice.” She shrugs a shoulder as the corners of her mouth lift suggestively up.

Helena smiles demurely.

Myka squeezes Helena's hand. "I don't regret what we did. You shouldn't either, ok?"

Helena nods lightly. “All right.” She gazes at Myka affectionately.

Myka beams back, eyes dulling as she suddenly remembers she has to get back to work. “What time is it?"

Helena turns to check a green glowing clock on a building down the street. “Twelve forty-five."

“Damn, I have to go. I’ll just take a few bites.” Myka digs into her salad.

Helena sits back and sighs. “I meant for this to be a delightful sort of lunch, Myka. I’m sorry."

“It’s ok,” Myka mouths while chewing on some lettuce. “We’ll just have to try again.” She smiles radiantly at Helena.

Helena grins back while giving a speculative brow raise. She nods deeply once.

\------------------------------

Helena calls Myka on Saturday and asks if she’d like to join Christina, Claudia and herself on a beach excursion this Sunday.

With less than a week left before her show, Myka is seriously stressing out over every little detail. But she _really_ wants to see Helena. She says yes, even though it goes against her better judgment.

To save time, they meet halfway to the beach at an elevated subway station. Helena gives a wave as she spots Myka across the platform, and Myka eagerly strides over to join her. Claudia averts her eyes as Helena kisses Myka hello on the cheek. Christina gives Myka a hug.

A train soon pulls into the station and the group scuttles aboard. The car is nearly empty. Claudia and Christina plop on a seat in the middle, their gaze promptly glued out the window. Myka and Helena sit adjacent, shoulders touching, watching the city speed by outside.

"It looks like it might rain, Helena,” Myka points to a dark section of sky in the distance.

Helena squints. "I don’t believe it's traveling in our direction."

"But what if we get caught in it?” Myka heard what Helena said, but speaks without thinking, her consciousness fuzzy at best from lack of sleep. She worked all night on her paintings just to have time to come out for the day.

"Are we not, at present, wearing the appropriate clothing with which to be wet in?” Helena’s lips curl suggestively.

“Yeah, but,” Myka pauses, "the ocean is different.” Myka thinks that sounds logical.

“And, what, pray tell, would you imagine the difference is exactly?” Helena blinks expectantly.

“Uh, salt?” Myka knows her answer makes no sense.

Helena’s eyes flick up and down Myka’s form. “Well, I, for one, am quite eager to see you in your swimsuit." She leans in and whispers with a low growl in Myka’s ear, “And one day soon, out of it entirely."

Myka flinches back and gasps facetiously. Her eyes dart to Claudia and Christina, then narrow at Helena. She palms Helena's shoulder, “Behave."

Helena lists backward, then straightens. She bites her bottom lip while eyeing Myka circumspectly.

“No,” she mouths defiantly, jutting out her bottom lip. She pushes Myka back.

Myka gapes, eyes wide and slaps Helena on the arm.

Helena smacks Myka back, mouth pouting, brows drawn in the middle.

Hands fly comically through the air as the two engage in a playful battle of the wills.

Christina bounds across the car. ”Stop!"

The pair freeze, then turn towards Christina. They simultaneously burst out laughing.

“You're fighting like kids on the playground at school,” Christina announces tersely. She looks genuinely worried.

“We're just playing, love. See?” Helena gives Myka a big smile, and Myka returns with a silly grin. They both beam at Christina.

Helena extends her arms and pulls Christina into a hug, then helps her hop onto the seat next to her. Christina snuggles into Helena’s side.

She pulls Christina in closer while gazing adoringly at Myka. “For the record, I meant every word I said.”

Myka’s eyes sparkle as they meet Helena’s, her crooked smile shining incandescently.

Claudia scoffs while rolling her eyes dramatically.

The train lurches ahead and Myka and Helena settle down. Christina restlessly hops down and crosses the aisle, returning to her previous position looking out the window next to Claudia, asking a million questions. Helena rests her head wearily on Myka’s shoulder, and Myka leans towards Helena. Myka closes her eyes, nearly drifting off to the soft shuffle of the car rocking back and forth.

The doors open at a stop and gaggle of rowdy teenagers board.

Helena jerks upright and blinks. She smacks her lips and yawns.

Myka grimaces playfully. “You can fall asleep anywhere, huh?

Helena glances at Christina wearing a sleepy grin. “If Christina is in good company, that certainly seems to be the case.”

Myka looks over at Claudia. “How much longer do you think.”

Claudia shrugs. “Five, ten minutes or so. We’re almost the last stop."

Helena slumps back onto Myka’s shoulder.

Myka decides now might be a good time to discuss something work related with Helena. "Have you ever been to Milan?"

Helena lifts her head. “I,” she eyes Myka quizzically, "may have passed through. Years ago. Why?"

“Do you remember me telling you I might go to Switzerland for another art fair, for the gallery?"

“Vaguely.” Helena drops her head back down and takes hold of Myka’s hand, threading their fingers together, resting them securely on her thigh.

“Well, the plans were confirmed yesterday, but the trip has been extended. They want me to go to Basel, London, and Milan."

Helena squeezes Myka’s hand but takes a moment to respond. “That's excellent, Myka. They must trust you."

Myka smiles proudly. “They said they did better this year at the art fair on Randall’s Island than the last. And I have you to thank for that."

Helena angles her eyes up at Myka lovingly. “My influence was minimal, Myka. Your success was clearly based on your honesty and charm."

“I’m seriously gonna barf if you two don’t stop that," Claudia points the stylus she’s been using on her iPad at them.

Helena glares at Claudia indignantly, then nuzzles further into Myka’s shoulder. “How long will your trip be then?"

"Two weeks, total,” Myka quips cheerfully. "I leave … not this Wednesday, but the next."

“Oh.” Helena’s grip loosens on Myka’s hand, and she slips further down her shoulder.

Myka glances at their intertwined hands and gives Helena's a squeeze, her gaze then flicking towards Claudia across the car.

Claudia stares at Helena, grim-faced, eyes filled with concern.

The train screeches to a halt and Claudia’s attention abruptly jerks around to identify the station. “We’re here! Everybody out."

Myka quickly notes the sign says “Beach” plus a street number. She knows from studying the map earlier they’ve arrived at the long thin Rockaway peninsula.

Bags are hastily gathered, and Christina’s hand instinctively grabbed by Helena as the group shuffles quickly off the train toward the exit.

The four descend the stairs and spill onto the street. "This way!" Claudia cheerfully announces, waving a beach umbrella to the right, bouncing it up and down like a drum major as they cross the street.

Helena and Christina follow while Myka trails behind. She's never been to this part of town before and gives herself a moment find her bearings.

A couple of short blocks later they reach the boardwalk. As Myka surveys the scene, she notes a few shops, but the surroundings are more beachy than spectacle.

"It's beautiful," Myka mouths, awestruck that the A train just dumped them somewhere as serene as this, completely in opposition to the cacophony of the city.

Helena speaks up. “Less than three years ago this entire beach, the boardwalk, and many of the homes along it were decimated during Hurricane Sandy. All of this,” she waves a hand 180 degrees, “reduced to rubble."

Myka’s brows furrow. “Wait, I think I remember reading about that. It was really bad, right?"

Helena shakes her head. "Terrible tragedy. Many families have yet to fully recover."

Scanning the boardwalk, Helena's eyes rest on a pair of benches located beneath a pavilion sheltering the entrance to the beach. “The area has been rebuilt into something far more resilient than before.” She glances reverently at Myka. "Much like yourself, Myka, rising brilliantly from the flames."

Myka's stomach knots at the mention of the fire. "Oh, I don't know.” Her lips rise into a shaky, hesitant grin. “Maybe more you than me if we’re talking resiliency. I’m still a total mess sometimes."

Helena’s brow lowers in concern, “Myka, that’s—"

“Heeey, folks,” Claudia rushes to interject, "we gonna do this before it rains or what? Cos the kid here is just itchin’ to get sand down her pants.” She places a hand on the top of Christina’s head.

"Aunt Claudia!" Christina yelps.

"I kid you not, kid. Sand. In. Pants, pronto. Let’s go!” Claudia grins deviously at Christina.

Christina screeches playful and runs out into the sand. Claudia rushes behind her.

Helena smirks at Myka, "Last one out, rotten egg and all." She dashes behind them.

Myka stands and sighs. She kicks off her sneakers, places them securely in her gym bag, then steps off, carefully descending the boxy wooden stairway to the beach. She takes her time as she travels, relishing the feel of sand between her toes, thinking she really did need a break. This was a good idea after all.

She reaches the group a minute or two later. Claudia lays out blankets and towels while Helena sets up the umbrella. Christina plays nearby with a plastic bucket and shovel.

The day is hazy but much warmer than expected for late May. Dark clouds loom in the distance; the air overly humid, tense.

Myka sets her bags down and settles herself under the umbrella.

“How can it be so bloody hot in May?" Helena grumbles grievously while wiping her brow.

“Pressure systems, gulf streams, Canada, the space station, too many birds flapping their wings at the same time. Who the heck knows?" Claudia mumbles absently, already immersed in her iPad as she lounges on a towel.

Myka begins to unpack her bag, but her eyes wander, locking on Helena as she begins to disrobe.

Helena’s hair falls in a sheet covering her face as she unzips her black hooded jacket. She pulls it off one sleeve at a time, then drops it on the edge of the blanket.

Claudia suddenly bursts out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Myka barks indignantly.

“Your face, Myka. Your face!” Claudia smacks her hand on the sand. " When H.G.’s jacket came off, your eyes nearly fell out of your skull!"

Myka swiftly looks away, face flushing.

Helena’s face pinches. "Claudia, no teasing."

“You’re no fun,” Claudia pouts.

Myka glances apprehensively at Helena as she shimmies out of her low riding sweats.

Helena stands confidently, stripped down to a black bikini top paired with tiny boy shorts, her c-section scar barely peeking out of the top of her bottoms. She smiles wildly at Myka.

Myka scans Helena head to toe, heart beating a little faster as she remembers the feel of Helena’s skin under her touch in the dark. A lusty grin grows slowly over her face as she gazes into Helena's eyes.

"Ugh, get a room, you two." Claudia grimaces and turns away forceful.

Helena's grin widens as far as humanly possible. Her eyes stay focused on Myka, but she speaks to Christina.

“Christina. Let's go for a swim."

“Yay!” Christina jumps up, abandoning her bucket and shovel. She begins to remove her clothes.

Helena moves to help Christina with her jacket zipper. She crouches down, back facing Myka.

Myka’s mood sobers as she recognizes the deep scars running down Helena’s back and arms. A few more decorate the back of her thighs.

Christina jettisons toward the surf the instant her clothes are shed.

Helena turns towards Myka, eyes searing a path from Myka's ankles to her eyes.

“Your turn,” she mouths with a low growl, then spins and sprints off behind Christina.

Claudia scoffs audibly even though she’s facing the opposite direction.

Myka watches Helena recede into the distance and admits to herself Helena's right; it is hot. She sheds her t-shirt and shorts to reveal the turquoise two-piece swimsuit she literally picked up on her way home from work last night. Diligently folding her clothes, she places them in her bag, then reclines under the shade of the umbrella and cracks open a book.

She lifts her head and glances toward the sea at the sound of a high-pitched squeal. Christina yelps that the water is cold, and Helena taunts her, telling her it’s warmer if she dives further in. Myka's gaze softens as she as she watches the two frolic happily in the waves.

Lying back, she attempts to focus on her book but finds it hard to concentrate. Her eyes flutter closed, and her book drops to the side. Taking slow and easy breaths, she lets the rhythm of waves hitting sand permeate her brain, the sound of the wind whistling and distant laughter filling her consciousness. Her forearm rises to shade her eyes from the bright haze. She breathes in a deep breath then lets all the tension in her body sink into the earth.

Her eyes blink open as a cool sensation spills over her abdomen. She tries to sit up, but her legs seem unable to move as if they’ve fallen asleep. At the sound of a tiny giggle, she props herself up on her arms and finds Christina standing next to her with a bucket full of sand. Her eyes travel down to find her legs encased in a giant mound.

She looks over at Helena and Claudia, who are munching on sandwiches nearby. Her eyes narrow as she grimaces in their direction.

Helena and Claudia burst out laughing. Christina joins them.

Myka looks on disapprovingly but with a twinkle in her eye. “Hey, do I get a sandwich? Because, you know, I can’t get one myself."

Helena stops laughing long enough to speak. “Christina, would you kindly dig Myka out?"

“Ok!” Christina drops to her knees and enthusiastically dips her tiny plastic shovel into the sand.

Helena pulls a sandwich out of a bag and brings it over to Myka. "Christina was terribly concerned you might burn in the sun."

“Mhmm," Myka eyes Helena skeptically. “Thanks for your concern, Christina, but I put on sunscreen before I left the house."

“Mom started it,” Christina mouths, while tirelessly digging, “Then I helped."

“Uh-huh,” Myka glares at Helena with a playful scowl.

Helena juts out a lip. “If you moved, you see, I’d lose the integrity of the view.” Her eyes travel the length of Myka’s newly uncovered legs, over her trim waist, stopping to rest on her amply filled bikini top. “And that, I’m afraid, would be a travesty of epic proportions."

“Right,” Myka smirks then looks to where Helena’s eyes are pointing. "My eyes are up here, you know,” she jokes.

“A fact I am well aware of, thank you,” Helena's gaze flicks up to catch Myka’s, her face filled with a gratified grin.

“So do I get that sandwich or what?” Myka throws her eyes to the sandwich Helena is holding. She reaches out a hand.

"Of course, my lady.” Helena kneels and bows, holding out the sandwich as if an offering.

Claudia makes gagging noises in the background.

Myka wobbles as she reaches out to grabs the sandwich, finding it hard to balance on one arm. She glances at Christina. “How you doin’ down there, champ."

"Almost done. Can you move your legs?” Christina instructs earnestly.

Myka bends her knees, legs folding towards her, sand falling off in sheets. “I can, thanks!"

“Now I’m hot,” Christina announces brusquely.

Helena sits back on her knees. “Let’s go back in the water, then."

“Ok!” Christina drops her shovel and races towards the sea.

Helena raises her brows at Myka. “Join us?"

Myka waves her sandwich. “After."

Helena gives a sly smile and jets off after Christina.

Several minutes pass. Myka chomps on her sandwich, gazing fondly at Christina and Helena in the water while Claudia taps at her touchpad screen.

Myka feels a cold drop, and pulls a leg toward her, inspecting the area where she thinks it fell.

Claudia jerks upright as moisture appears on her screen. She looks up, then over at Myka, eyes wide. “Rain!” she barks and springs into action.

Myka and Claudia grab all the items they can hold and scramble quickly towards the pavilion, reaching their destination mere seconds before a downpour.

They unload their bags Myka on a bench and wait patiently for Helena and Christina to join them. After a few minutes, Myka steps to the railing and squints, barely able make out Christina and Helena’s forms dancing around in the sand.

Myka sees Helena drop to her knees and give Christina hug, then point to Myka and Claudia.

Christina runs to the pavilion, screeching playfully all the way. She bounds up the stairs and almost tackles Claudia with a big hug.

Claudia lifts her arms. “Whoa there, matey! You’re soaking wet. Myka, towel.” She snaps her fingers.

Myka grabs a beach towel out of a bag on the bench and holds it up with both hands in front of her. “Come here, Christina.”

Christina disengages from Claudia and thrusts herself into the towel, her momentum pushing Myka back so that her knees hit the bench. She involuntarily sits with a plop and Christina falls on her lap.

Christina giggles.

“Someone's a little riled up.” Myka smiles warmly at Christina, then wraps her in the towel. She dries Christina’s hair and glances out at Helena.

Helena, now standing, remains on the beach.

Myka’s gaze moves to Claudia, who stares at Helena, brows drawn, mouth forming a thin line.

“Claudia, what’s up with Helena?” Myka helps Christina up onto the bench and wraps her in a dry towel.

“Hm?” Claudia bites her bottom lip and spins on a heel.

Christina snuggles into Myka, and Myka pulls her close. She eyes Claudia expectantly.

"H.G. Right. Yeah. Right.” Claudia’s eyes darken. "We should talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to say this over here as I said it on Tumblr: The concrit nudge Roadie gave me set the wheels turning in my brain, and I’ve been thinking about how punctuation is the sort of fastener of words (like screws or nails in construction). It’s a critical element in shaping the architecture of a story, but also ties in with design by structuring the text. I dove back into ch.1-3 again and tidied relative to the above (+italics) and would like to think ch.4 here is a much sleeker item from the get go. 
> 
> NEXT UP: Claudia and Myka have a serious chat. And why is Helena standing in the rain?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claudia and Myka have a serious chat. And why is Helena standing in the rain?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update is later than usual, but I sort of fell off the B&W wagon this week due to work. (Ok full disclosure, I started writing something new, _then_ fell off, but...) If you happened to have read this on Tumblr previously, I've done a lot of work on it since then. It should read much, _much_ smoother (though there may still be a few typos...)

——————————

> _“New York is unruly, tangled. The city woos first, then mangles, then pastes back together in a fresh, dazzling mosaic.”_  
>  ― Elizabeth Winder

\-----------------

“Ok, so let’s talk.” Myka’s face tightens as her brows draw together.

Claudia’s lips press together into a slight grimace. She throws Myka an analytical eye.

Myka glares expectantly at Claudia. She’s all ears.

Claudia huffs out a heavy breath, then speaks. ”I think you’re really good for her, you know.” She nods at Helena in the rain.

"Maybe the best thing that’s happened to her since…” she drops her eyes and shrugs. “Me.” Her hands swing round to clasp loosely behind her back as her eyes meet Myka's, mouth forming a smug grin.

Myka sniggers once and purses her lips.

Claudia tilts her head and rolls on the bottoms of her feet, bouncing up on her toes. "And I’m pret-ty sure you’re over the moon for her.”

Myka narrows her eyes. "I am."

Claudia’s hands circle forward and meet in front with a mild clap.

“Sooo, by now you’ve probably noticed H.G.’s not that great at communicating, even when she’s smack dab in front of you.”

Myka furrows her brow as she considers this. “I guess, yeah.”

“Now imagine you’re 3000 miles away. How's that’s gonna work out.” Claudia laces her fingers together, lifts them to her lips, then points them at Myka.

Myka’s mouth downturns sharply. “She _has_ a cell phone, you know. And yeah there’s a time difference, but we can text and call and—"

“Name one time you’ve talked with her for more than ten minutes on the phone.” Claudia lifts up a finger.

Myka scrolls through her short list of phone interactions with Helena and glowers in annoyance at Claudia.

“Ha! You can’t.” Claudia does a little hop and rubs her hands together.

Myka scowls deeply.

Claudia gives a cocky smirk. “She’s not the queen of conversation anyway, but her cheapo service drops you after five.”

Myka automatically looks down as she feels Christina snuggle closer into her side. She'd almost forgotten Christina was there.

“Are you cold, honey?”

Christina nods her head.

“Ok, let’s get your jacket on.”

Myka scours the area and leans over Christina, quickly pulling a jacket and pants out of a bag. She helps Christina hop down from the bench then holds out her jacket and places an arm in a sleeve.

She pauses mid-dressing to glance at Claudia, eyes narrowing. “Ok. What about email?”

Claudia’s mouth contorts into an amused grimace as she holds back a laugh. She guffaws instead then trails off with a choked chuckle.

“What?” Myka barks a little too aggressively.

Claudia bites her bottom lip while rubs her the back of her neck and averts her eyes.

Myka glares fixedly at Claudia until she feels Christina shift uncomfortably. Her gaze softens as her eyes meet Christina’s, and she flashes Christina a reassuring grin. She activates, pulling Christina’s jacket the rest of the way around her shoulders and wrangling her other arm into a sleeve.

“I know she knows how to use a computer. I saw her watching a movie once with Christina on your iPad,” Myka mouths assuredly while threading Christina’s zipper together. She looks up at Claudia as she pulls the zipper up.

“Uh-huh.” Claudia smiles condescendingly while tapping a finger to her lips.

Myka’s brows gather as she leans back in her seat. She hands Christina her pants then glowers at Claudia.

“ _And_ she said she did research with Christina on the internet.” She throws Claudia a self-righteous smirk.

“ _For_ Christina, Myka. _For_. There’s a difference.” Claudia sighs dramatically while raising a brow.

Myka frowns disconcertingly as she lets this information to sink into her brain. Her attention soon shifts to Christina, who stands front and center, waiting patiently for Myka to notice she’s finished dressing. Myka's curl up at the ends and her eyes warm as she beckons Christina nearer. She twirls Christina around so she's facing Claudia, then wraps her arms around her, pulling her in close.

Claudia grins at the scene, but it quickly fades as her eyes meet Myka’s. “So here’s the thing. H.G. doesn’t exactly _do_ technology these days. She used to. Practically lived inside her laptop.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

"But since Christina, not so much." Her eyes soften as they meet Christina's.

“Why?” Myka's head tilts thoughtfully as she reaches out to thread a strand of hair behind Christina's ear.

Claudia abruptly puffs out her chest and thrusts a finger in the air. She clears her throat then assumes Helena’s accent. “Henceforth, l shall manifest only tangible, solid, corporeal creations. No longer shall I drift amidst the ether.”

Myka’s brow sinks. “What?"

“A.I,” Claudia mouths dreamily, eyes sparkling as she speaks. “We both lived and breathed it. That’s why I’m here, in New York, working with the Watson computer.”

Myka stares at Claudia, completely flummoxed.

"Artificial Intelligence,” Claudia relays informatively. “Like HAL, in that movie, ‘2001.’“

Myka’s brows knit, mouth slackening as she shakes her head up and down with short strokes. She hasn’t seen the movie in years but thinks she can imagine what Claudia is talking about.

Claudia steps toward Christina then crouches down. “So, then this one came along, and H.G. lost all interest in artificial life.”

She tousles Christina's damp curls and flashes an open-mouthed smile. “Because, you see, she’d created a real one.”

Claudia’s smile morphs into a silly smirk.

Christina giggles.

“You warm enough, kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Claudia rises and sweeps Christina up, plopping her comically onto the bench. She promptly collapses next to Christina and slides a loving arm around her, pulling her close.

Christina nuzzles into Claudia's side as Claudia glances at Myka. “Thanks for zipping her up."

“No problem.” Myka mouths assuredly while gazing at Christina.

Her mouth lifts into a crooked smirk and as the image of Helena tapping away, surrounded by computers, proudly pregnant fills her mind. “So Helena actually said all of those things? About creating a life?”

“Mmm, more or less, yeah. H.G. was pretty spunky back then. Totally full of herself. And a pain in my—” Claudia side eyes Christina and pinches her lips, “butt.” She gives Christina a poke in the ribs.

Christina giggles and hugs Claudia tighter.

“Huh,” Myka mutters, heart heavy in the knowledge that she’ll never know the Helena Claudia is describing. She feels a sudden chill. “Could you hand me my shirt and shorts?"

“Sure.” Claudia leans over Christina and removes the items from Myka's bag.

Myka stands and collects her clothes from Claudia. She shakes them out and pulls them on, thinking in hindsight it would have been smart to have worn pants. Her eyes flit anxiously toward Claudia from time to time, noting Claudia's intense stare as she dresses.

Claudia heaves a deep sigh, then speaks. “So, back to your trip.”

Myka slows to a stop as she brushes sand off of her top to gives Claudia her full attention. She's not entirely sure where this is going anymore, but after that last segue, she’s beyond the point of asking questions.

“H.G. acts like a total baby when I'm out of town; refuses to remember where I am, what day it is, that I even told her I’d be gone. I give her my iPad, but Christina has to remind her she has it."

She glances down at Christina. “Am I right, kid?"

Christina looks up at Claudia. “Uh-huh.” Her head swings toward Myka, tiny brows knitting. "Mom gets all weird.”

Claudia jumps back in. “Maybe she’ll be different with you, but…”

Myka’s face pinches. "But what?"

"Out of sight…” Claudia grimaces, brows angling as she shrugs uncomfortably.

Myka’s stomach knots.

“But if you can’t get in touch with her, text me and I’ll text her to text you.”

Myka stares helplessly at Claudia as she tries to suppress the wave of anxiety rising in her chest. She breathes in deeply then huffs out a heavy, defeated breath.

Christina wriggles out from under Claudia’s arm and hops off the bench, stumbling nimbly over to the railing.

Myka’s eyes follow Christina, then travel out toward the beach. The rain has lessened considerably, but Helena remains, facing the water. Myka moves to join Christina then places a comforting hand lightly on Christina’s back.

“Your mom’s not coming?"

“She said later,” Christina answers flatly while clambering up the railing. She balances on a rung and thrusts a hand out to feel how hard it’s raining.

Myka turns to Claudia, eyes full of questions.

“H.G.’s got a weird thing with water.” Claudia throws her chin in Helena’s direction and tilts forward, hands gripping the edge of the bench.

“Ok.” Myka settles back on the railing and crosses her arms over her chest.

“She’d say 'a bittersweet love affair’.” Claudia imitates Helena’s enunciation then sniffs out a laugh. “When we lived in Cali, me and the kid went to the beach all the time. Christina loves it, but H.G? She’s got issues."

Myka's head lilts in Helena's direction. “So you’re not worried she’s out there now?"

Claudia shrugs. “Nah. She always comes around."

Myka finds Claudia’s tone unconvincing. She twists her head and gazes at Helena worriedly.

“She's kinda weird about a lot of things."

Myka’s eyes swing back to Claudia.

Claudia throws her eyes towards the beach. "Tell you what. If she ever goes all freaky deaky on you like that let me know. I'll help you figure out what the heck is going on.”

“Ok. So why's she out there now?”

“Now?” Claudia squints in Helena’s direction then shakes her head. “No clue.”

Myka stares at Claudia for a moment, sensing an unease in her voice. “You care about her a lot."

Claudia’s eyes meet Myka's. “I do. She’s nutty as a fruitcake, but she's family. And you can’t choose family, right?” Her eyes wander to Christina.

Christina balances on the railing while attempting to slide her body between the rails, out onto the steps.

Claudia rises and shuffles toward Christina. She places both hands securely around Christina’s torso and coerces her out from between the slats.

“So do fruit cakes have tons of nuts? Cos for that metaphor to work, they’ve got to have oodles, scads, _reams_ …” She gives Christina's midriff a tickle while listing words.

Christina giggles and squirms, feet hitting the ground with a stomp. She grabs hold of Claudia’s hands and yelps, “Aunt Claudia, stop!” then flashes Claudia a toothy smile.

Claudia shoots Christina a toothy grin back, then glances at Myka.

Myka glowers, eyeing Claudia with serious concern.

Claudia’s grin withers. “I’m kinda being scary cryptic girl right now, huh.’"

Myka raises a brow. “Yeah."

Claudia pulls Christina closer and lays both hands squarely on Christina's shoulders. “So, listen, here’s what we’re gonna do. Christina and I are gonna toddle off and find some warm beverages while you see if lady cuckoo out there won't let you into her troubled mind."

“Right,” Myka mouths distractedly as she assess the weather on the beach. She decides the rain has slowed just enough to navigate.

Claudia hands Myka a towel, then grabs a few bags and heads off with Christina in search of drinks.

Myka lifts the remaining bags and carefully descends the slick wooden stairs. Her bare feet sink into the cold, wet sand as she begins her journey to meet Helena, gait slow but steady. As she walks, her mind scrolls through every detail she’s learned about of Helena’s past to prepare her for whatever it is that's kept Helena out in the rain. Her speed lessens as Helena draws near, and she stops a pace away.

Helena stands motionless, staring out to sea.

Myka notes moisture beading on Helena's skin and stares transfixed as the water from Helena's hair travels slowly down her back to drip slowly off of her hands. She’s momentarily distracted by the sun as it peeks out from the clouds and notes the drizzle has turned to mist.

She drops her bags but keeps hold of the towel, then takes a step closer to Helena.

“Helena, you’re shivering.” She places a hand gently on Helena’s shoulder. “And you’re ice cold."

Helena’s gaze stays firmly out to sea. “Am I?” Her softly spoken words are nearly lost in the air.

Myka reaches out and runs her fingers under Helena's locks. She lifts up the wet mass and drapes the towel underneath then slips it around Helena's shoulders and back.

Helena looks down at the towel and tugs a corner, pulling it around herself a little tighter. She absently fingers the edge.

Myka circles forward to face Helena, but Helena’s eyes stay firmly downcast.

Myka walks a step closer and lifts a corner of the towel. She begins to dry Helena’s face and tips Helena’s chin up to get a better look at her.

Helena’s eyes flick up to meet Myka’s and Myka’s hand stills, heart slowing as she’s hit with Helena’s haunted gaze. She quickly resumes blotting Helena's eyes and ears.

Helena grabs Myka’s wrists and gradually inches Myka's hands down and away.

Myka resists but her arms soon slacken. She releases the towel and allows Helena to control her movements.

Helena’s hands slip from Myka’s wrists and hang for a moment. She bends her elbows, then lifts the towel, sponging then squeezing her hair dry.

Myka crouches down and pulls Helena's hoodie and sweats out of her bag. As she rises, she exchanges the clothes for Helena's towel, then folds the towel neatly and drops it on top of Helena's bag.

She swipes the clothes back from Helena and throws the sweatpants over her shoulder. Holding out Helena’s hoodie, she gives it a shake, then beckons Helena to dress.

Helena places an arm in a sleeve, and Myka swiftly wraps the garment around her. Myka holds out the second sleeve and Helena dutifully slides her arm in. Myka’s hands then glide forward, and she grabs the jacket by the collar, tugging it tightly around Helena’s form. Her hands trail down, and she threads the zipper together, pulling it securely up. She slips the sweats off her shoulder and hands them to Helena while giving a directive nod.

Helena accepts the clothing but stares at it for a moment, unsure of what to do next. She lowers the garment down and steps into the legs one at a time, then hikes the pair up roughly. Her fingers find the drawstring, but her hands shake far too much to form a knot.

Myka notices and instantly places her hands on top of Helena’s. She pries the drawstring from Helena’s grip and tugs it tight, then gingerly ties it into a bow. Her hands slide across Helena’s stomach and come to rest on Helena's hips.

“Better?” Myka mouths softly, her mouth rises to form a crooked half-grin. She gazes tenderly at Helena, eyes shining with deep warmth and compassion.

Helena looks down and squeezes her toes into the wet sand. Her head moves in slow strokes up and down in affirmation.

Myka hates to break the tranquility of the moment, but she knows she needs to get Helena to open up. She takes a step back and grabs hold of Helena’s hands.

“Talk to me, Helena."

Helena drags a toe through the sand, drawing a short line.

“Please?” Myka grips Helena’s hands tighter.

Helena draws in a deep breath while shrugging her head to the side. She looks up at Myka, her gaze simultaneously distant but present.

“I was…” she hangs for a moment as if calculating her facts, “ten.” She wets her lips. "My parents decided we should trek back to England to mark the twentieth anniversary of their meeting at Glastonbury. We docked the boat in France, took a ferry to Dover, then traversed southern England by rail."

Myka quickly does the math in her head. “So, 1994?"

“Yes.” Helena gives a small smile, reminiscent of Christina’s when she’s pleased with something. “I was terribly excited, as we were to visit my grandparents in Wales first."

Myka smiles too, thinking Helena’s mood always brightens when she mentions her grandparents.

“We traveled light: two small tents, and minimal supplies, just enough to get us through the three days at the festival."

Myka notices a drop of water trailing down Helena's temple. She releases Helena’s hands and picks up the towel.

"It began raining the moment we stepped foot on the pitch. It was good fun at first, we frolicked in the rain, skittering from one performance to the next. But the campground was soon a sea of mud, and we all became absolutely filthy."

Helena's head tilts as Myka gently dabs the drip from her temple.

Helena’s eyes meet Myka’s and she softly mouths "Thank you," momentarily acknowledging Myka’s presence.

Myka’s lips rise to form a warm, lopsided half-grin. She lowers the towel.

“By the second day, the magic had worn off entirely; it was impossible to escape the damp. Yet my parents fearlessly dragged us about, enthusiastically relaying stories of their experiences at previous festivals.”

Helena grimaces slightly. "Charles and I were less than impressed."

Myka gives a stifled snicker.

"On the third day, I refused to leave the tent entirely.” Helena's eyes wander toward the sea as her mind moves further into the past. "Charles tried his best to coax me out, but I would not be persuaded."

Lowering her head, Helena clasps her hands together in front of her. "My father said to leave me, but my mother said no, that wasn't right.” She scratches a toe in the sand.

Helena shivers again prompting Myka to immediately place the towel around Helena's shoulders.

Helena’s gaze flicks toward Myka, but her eyes are glassed over. “Mother climbed in the tent and tried to reason with me.”

She draws the towel tightly around herself and takes in a shaky breath. “She asked, ‘Why won’t you come out with us?' And I replied, 'I'm sick of the rain and mud.’”

Her eyes glaze over entirely. “And she said, ‘But it's only water, Helena, and you've grown up on the water.’"

She nervously fingers the edge of the towel as her eyes drop down. “I was desperately missing the warmth of my grandparents home, you see, but I didn’t want to spoil my parents anniversary. So I simply said, 'But I'm so terribly cold.’”

The corners of her lips strain up as they press together tightly. “And my mother smiled as only a mother could and pulled me close."

She lowers her chin and wraps her arms around her abdomen. “'Don't you worry, my little girl, I'll always be here to warm you.’" Her voice cracks as she hugs herself tighter, eyes trained solidly on her curled toes.

Myka’s stomach churns, heartbeat slowing as she watches Helena crumple in upon herself. Laying a tentative hand on Helena’s upper arm, she stares blankly for a moment, mind rushing to find the right thing to say or do. She suddenly wonders if this somehow is her fault, if the sight of Christina cozying up to her brought forth Helena’s latent memories, but she can’t image Helena could see the two of them clearly through the rain.

Myka decides it’s best to pull Helena close, wrapping her long arms around her.

Helena falls stiffly onto Myka's shoulder, arms remaining crossed.

Myka angles her head down, placing her mouth next to Helena’s ear. “She meant every word, Helena. She loved you very much.”

Helena’s body slackens, arms dropping then slipping around Myka’s waist. She buries her face in Myka’s shoulder.

Myka places her lips on the top of Helena’s head and tightens her arms around Helena’s torso. She feels Helena relaxing into her, slowly giving herself over to Myka’s warmth and strength.

“Mom!"

Myka’s eyes shoot up at the sound of Christina’s voice.

Christina waves while running at a breakneck pace from the boardwalk toward Helena and Myka.

Helena presses her forehead into Myka’s shoulder and breathes in a deep breath. She releases Myka’s waist and turns around, but keeps a hand on the small of Myka’s back.

“Mom!” Christina yelps again, crashing into Helena’s legs, hugging her fiercely.

Claudia trails behind carrying a cardboard tray full of beverages. She eyes Myka apologetically. “Sorry. Hands full."

“It’s ok.” Myka turns and gazes at Helena fondly, but with an undertone of worry.

Helena lifts Christina up and spins her around.

Myka’s eyes stay fixed on Helena as she speaks to Claudia. “Let’s go back to the pavilion." She bounces on the balls of her feet and wraps her arms around her abdomen to keep warm.

“Everything A-ok then, princess?”

Myka swings her head toward Claudia abruptly. “Hey, that’s the first time you've called me that today."

“Huh, yeah. Off my game I guess.” Claudia smirks.

Myka angles her eyes toward Helena and shakes her head up and down. “I think she’ll be ok.”

“Good."

Claudia trudges off through the wet sand while Myka gathers her bags and joins Helena and Christina a few paces away. Helena boosts Christina onto her back, and the three travel toward the boardwalk together.

Christina grabs Helena's hair as if it were the mane of a horse. “Giddy up!” she yelps.

Helena bounces Christina up and down, and Christina giggles ecstatically. Myka smiles warmly at the display, pleased at the instant change in Helena’s mood.

They reach the stairs, and Helena turns to let Christina hop down. Christina scrambles toward Claudia; hands outstretched in search of her drink.

Myka takes a step up.

Helena lays a hand to delay her. “Myka.”

Myka stops and gives Helena her full attention.

“I’m sorry." Helena’s mouth downturns. "I didn’t mean to—"

“It’s ok,” Myka rebuts a little too forcefully, feeling as if Helena’s been apologizing far too often lately. She lowers her tone. “Really, it's ok. I’m just glad you told me why you were out there."

“I—“ Helena casts her eyes down and breathes in a sharp breath. She wets her lips then releases the breath. “I have a request.” She looks up, dark eyes locking onto Myka’s.

“Ok.” Myka mouths curiously.

Helena twists her head toward Claudia, then back to Myka. “I-I'd understand if it's too soon, but if Claudia agrees to mind Christina on Tuesday, would you stay the night?”

Myka feels her lungs constrict as her eyes widen, mind racing through possibilities. Tuesday is the worst possible night, _ever,_ that Helena could suggest for this, but there’s no way she’s going to turn Helena down. Tuesday night is her last chance to fix problems before delivering and installing her paintings on Wednesday. And Wednesday morning is going to be an absolute bear.

Her breathing accelerates as her eyes glass over.

Helena looks on plaintively, "I know you have a lot of work to do for your exhibition, but I thought—"

“Yes.” Myka forces her eyes to focus on Helena as she suddenly realizes she hasn’t answered yet. “ _Yes_. I’ll stay. Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out."

“Are you sure?” Helena shoves her hands in her pockets and presses her lips together.

“Helena...” Myka pauses as she reaches out, casually fingering then tugging at the drawstring on Helena’s hoodie. ”Totally sure.” Her green eyes warm as she gazes at Helena, mouth forming a gentle grin.

Helena’s lips curl up at the ends as she leans in and places a hopeful kiss on Myka’s eager lips. She gives a smile full of promises then spins round and with a spring in her step ascends the stairs to join Claudia and Christina under the pavilion.

Myka smiles to herself as she follows, feeling positive about the future. She watches intently as Helena approaches Christina and Claudia.

"What's that?” Helena nods towards the cup in Christina’s hand.

"Hot chocolate,” Christina chirps excitedly.

Helena raises a brow at Claudia. “You’re fielding the sugar-fueled questions on the way home."

Claudia shrugs. ”Hey, the kid needed to stay warm. And if someone didn’t go all dark and stormy out there, she might have..."

Myka views the scene from a safe distance as Claudia and Helena circle around each other, arguing like siblings, their tone serious but with a playful edge. She grimaces as her mind travels back to similar fights-but-not-fights with her younger sister, Tracy, but quickly casts the thoughts aside, deciding she has no desire to recall those memories right now.

Meandering over toward the bench, she lifts her tea from the cardboard tray and pulls back the plastic tab. She takes a sip, face pinching at the sensation of scalding hot liquid. Blowing gently on the surface, she glances over the rim and catches Christina’s eye. She motions for Christina to join her on the bench then plops down sluggishly.

Christina scuttles over, hands her drink to Myka, then climbs on the seat. Myka returns Christina's cup, and the pair sit quietly taking in the Helena and Claudia show.

Myka turns and grins at Christina affectionately, then gently brushes Christina's curls out of her face. “You warm enough, kid?”

Christina throws Myka a toothy grin. “Yeah."

“Good.” Myka slips her arm around Christina's shoulders and pulls her close, then takes a timid sip of her tea.

She looks toward Helena and Claudia and flinches as she finds the pair staring warmly but wildly at her, eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

Myka’s brow wrinkles. “What?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a friend gave me a nudge about action tags (!), then I did some research and skulked around a few forums for further help. All of this caused some synapses in my brain to connect, and hopefully chapter 5 has congealed. This learning process is so amazing!
> 
> NEXT UP: Tuesday…and Myka’s exhibition’s opening night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday…and Myka’s exhibition’s opening night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI - if you haven't noticed already, Helena’s downward spiral has officially begun. (Things _will_ work themselves out eventually, though, I promise!) Also, if you read this over on Tumblr, I've given it a sizable overhaul. The content is the same but with a bit more nuance, especially where Claudia and Abigail are concerned.

————————

> _“New York is appalling, fantastically charmless and elaborately dire.”_  
>  ― Henry James

————————

Tentative plans for Tuesday are negotiated while the group travels home on the subway from the beach. Claudia agrees to watch Christina and Helena says she’ll call Myka to confirm what time to meet closer to the date. Myka smiles and leans in for a kiss, hoping the connection imparts her eagerness for Tuesday to Helena in full. She says her goodbyes, then hops off at the platform where she met them earlier.

A few minutes later she boards a connecting train and plunks tiredly onto an empty plastic seat. She stares blankly out the window watching the city fly by, mind mulling over the highs and lows of the day. Helena's mood changing on a dime unsettles her slightly, and her competence and subsequent aversion to technology is somewhat baffling. Maybe she'll have time to talk to Helena on Tuesday, she thinks, then smirks while dreaming of other activities Tuesday may bring.

First thing in the door, she shifts into work mode. Her goals are singular: complete ten paintings before Tuesday morning. Nothing else matters. She works furiously Sunday night and all day Monday, consuming vast quantities of coffee, occasionally breaking here and there for a meal or a quick nap.

Completely absorbed working out a particular stroke of color Monday evening, Myka startles at the sound of a crystal clear ding. She scans the room, unsure of its location. When it dings again, she digs through a pile of sketches and finds her phone underneath.

She presses the button and gives the screen a swipe. Helena has texted to check in.

_\- How's your work faring, love?_

Myka stares at the text, unsure of how to respond. Should she give details and tell Helena she hasn’t slept since they parted? No, she thinks, bad idea. She doesn’t want to give Helena the wrong impression. Short, simple, and to the point, Myka. Just tell her things are going well.

_\- All good. Thanks!_

She hits send and squeezes her eyes shut. Super lame, she thinks, but it will have to do.

Helena texts back a smiley face made with a colon and a right parenthesis.

Myka smiles wearily at her phone. She’s not sure how to respond to that but decides those particular characters seem a fitting end to this conversation she obviously can’t handle having right now. Heaving a heavy sigh, she gives the phone one last glance then sets it aside and gets back to work.

In the wee hours of the morning, Myka decides it’s time to stop. She’s done, or at least as done as she is going to get, and knows she should really try to get some sleep. Climbing sluggishly into bed, she closes her eyes, but tosses and turns, caffeinated beyond the point of no return. Her mind buzzes with anticipation, thoughts toggling between her upcoming show and her date with Helena. Sleep eventually finds her, but her slumber is light.

Her alarm sounds loudly a few hours later. She jolts awake and hops out of bed. Coffee is brewed immediately, and she begins to wrap her paintings with plastic. As she surveys the stack, she decides before the fire she would never have thought herself capable of creating an entire body of work in a month. Small details notwithstanding, she’s certain the paintings are good enough to pass muster for this show. Plus, as Amanda said, it's is a summer show. The target audience is not going to be super critical.

She dresses primly for work as Vanessa will be in the office and her day filled with meeting after meeting after meeting. While packing her overnight bag she smiles, mind jumping to the evening’s plans. She decides when Helena calls later, she'll suggest eating in so they can spend as much time relaxing together as possible.

Her commute is a nightmare, and she arrives fifteen minutes late to a pile of phone messages stacked high on her desk. She sighs, then begins sifting through the pile, dividing slips of paper into prioritized categories. Her goal for the day is to tie up as many loose ends as possible since she’s out tomorrow for the install. She knows it’s a daunting task.

Lunch is ordered and worked through as she glides effortlessly from morning meetings into afternoon ones. She manages a peek at her phone from time to time and notes a message from Abigail and one from Amanda. No word yet from Helena.

Her afternoon proves jam packed until 4:30, and during a short lull she checks her phone again. Helena's finally called, but she's whisked away before she can retrieve the message.

An hour later she sequesters herself in her office and settles tiredly into her chair. She grins ear to ear while clicking play on her voicemail.

"Myka, I'm sorry, but I have to cancel tonight. We're at the emergency room, Christina has an ear infection. I'll try to call later. I’m so sorry."

An announcement from the hospital PA causes Helena’s apology to come out as a muffled yell. Myka keeps the phone to her ear after Helena hangs up, her stomach sinking at the desperation and anxiety in Helena’s voice.

Her arm slides down, phone falling with a thunk on the desk. Thoughts of this evening helped her get through this hectic day, and she can’t help feeling a sharp pang of remorse that her expectations have been completely crushed. A moment later she feels guilty for feeling sad, knowing full well this isn’t Helena’s fault. Christina’s needs come first; having a child means all plans are mutable.

Leaning an elbow on the desk, she places a finger over her lips, contemplating her options. Should she call Helena and see if everything is ok? Maybe not, she thinks, as she wouldn’t want to disturb them if they are being seen by a doctor. But she should at least text to show her sympathy. That seems like the right thing to do.

She picks up her phone and bites a nail as she taps nervously at the screen.

_\- I totally understand, Helena. I’m so sorry. I hope Christina is OK._

No, she decides, too cold. Mechanical. She erases the entire thing and starts over again.

_\- I hope Christina is OK. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help._

Still not right. Sounds more desperate than caring.

_\- I totally understand, Helena. Please give Christina my love and I hope she’s feeling better soon. Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything at all._

Too mushy, she thinks, and a little pedantic, but she can live with that. She presses send, then scrolls through her voice mail.

Abigail's message relays Thursday train times while Amanda suggests dinner tonight upon her arrival. She begins to text Amanda declining dinner, but her fingers still halfway through. Her eyes droop as she admits to herself she's completely beat. And while she’s genuinely sorry to hear Christina is ill, she's somewhat relieved not to be meeting Helena tonight. Tiredly pawing around in the dark due to exhaustion is _not_ what she’s fantasized about for weeks and she’s worried Helena would be less than impressed with her performance. Because when they do make that connection, she wants it to be just right.

She splurges on a cab home and passes out soon after she arrives.

Wednesday proves to be quite a bear. The van arrives mid-morning and load in goes smoothly, but the trip into Manhattan takes forever due to traffic on the bridge. The install takes longer than expected as the gallery staff is stretched thin. Once the room is hung the curator wafts through and makes what she calls “a few small changes.” Paintings are rearranged, and the entire room rehung.

Dinner is ordered in, and both crew and artists eat together on the main floor. Myka and Amanda have a chance to catch up, but Myka declines her invitation for drinks later. She has to work in the morning and already feels out of sorts.

Thursday begins much like Tuesday and work passes by in a frenetic blur. Myka’s anxiety lessens after receiving a mid-day text from Helena confirming the event start time. Abigail meets Myka at five and the two indulge in a quick meal nearby. They dawdle as they walk to the gallery and arrive a few minutes before the opening officially starts.

Myka’s solo exhibition fills the smaller upstairs gallery while a large group show sprawls across the main floor. Turnout is high due to a the star-studded roster and early rave reviews. By six thirty the entire gallery is packed.

Myka’s room is less frenetic than downstairs, but steady stream of people make their way through. A few friends pop in and out, and she finds their idle chatter calms her raw nerves. Her lips curl up at the ends as she spies Liam, Steve and Erica in the distance examining her work on the walls.

Claudia drifts by and says a quick hello, immediately making a bee-line toward Abigail. The pair sequesters themselves in a corner, obviously plying each other with gossip.

Myka keeps a vigilant watch toward the door, hoping Helena and Christina will arrive soon. The two tumble in a few moments after Claudia and sift through the thickening crowd.

Christina mouths a speedy hello to Myka, then races across the room.

Helena's gaze follows Christina as she joins Erica, Liam, and Steve. “She’ll be back,” she predicts, smiling at Myka apologetically. She leans in and gives Myka a peck on the cheek.

Myka’s eyes trail down then up Helena’s form, and a lopsided grin grows wildly across her face.

“What?” Helena queries.

“You dressed up.” Myka's smile widens as she reaches out and drapes a finger under Helena’s plum colored tie.

“Of course,” Helena huffs urgently, feigning offense.

“Com'ere.” Myka yanks Helena by the tie into an impromptu kiss.

Helena’s gaze meets Myka’s as their lips separate. “I see you’re not nervous at all.”

"Terrified actually.”

Myka releases Helena’s tie and composes herself. “Amanda’s going to introduce me to some big wig curator guy tonight. I’m a little scared of acting like a complete dope."

“Myka, you’ll be fine.” Helena grabs hold of Myka’s hand and lifts it up to her lips. She places a light kiss on Myka's knuckles.

“Hey H.G.!” Claudia shouts as she and Abigail move toward Helena from across the room.

Helena’s eyes shift to view the two women as they approach. She lowers her arm but keeps a steady hold of Myka’s hand. “Hello, ladies. Have you seen Christina?"

“She’s over there, with Erica.” Myka throws her eyes toward the doorway. She breathes a sharp breath in as she notices Amanda approaching with a man in a suit trailing behind. She squeezes Helena’s hand.

Amanda strides up to Myka and flicks her eyes down, briefly acknowledging Myka and Helena’s intertwined hands. “Myka, this is Massimo. He’d like a personal tour of your work."

Myka’s posture stiffens. She releases Helena’s hand and nervously thrusts it out for Massimo to shake. “Very nice to meet you, sir. Let me show you around."

Myka guides Massimo around the exhibition, diligently answering questions, explaining technique as they go. As they reach the last painting, Myka sees Helena storming out of the room, and turns towards Amanda. She narrows her eyes as she watches Amanda take leave of Claudia and Abigail to chat with others. She quickly but politely finishes her meeting with Massimo and walks over to question Claudia and Abigail.

"What just happened?” Myka pointedly mouths as she glares at Amanda’s profile across the room.

Abigail hooks her elbow through Myka’s and spins her around. “Hey Myka, you’re back! Maybe we all should get a drink from that awesome open bar downstairs. You can tell us all about your meeting…"

“Abs, what did Amanda do?” Myka stiffens and throws Abigail a scowl.

Claudia jumps in. "H.G. was _this_ close to punching your friend.” She holds her thumb and forefinger out to indicate just how close.

Myka’s attention swings to Claudia. “Why?"

Abigail and Claudia exchange a wary glance, silently willing each other to answer.

Myka’s getting impatient. "Should go after her?"

Claudia waves her hands. “Errrr, no. No. Give her a minute."

Myka’s face hardens as her lips pinch tenuously. "Then tell me why she wanted to punch Amanda."

“Myka, we _all_ want to punch Amanda at some point in our lives.” Abigail places a hand on Myka’s upper arm and gives it a squeeze.

"Abs…” Myka scowls again.

Abigail’s arm drops. She eyes Claudia plaintively.

Claudia smirks as if calculating her next move.

Abigail shrugs.

"So after you left, your Amazonian friend over there looks H.G. up and down and says ‘So you must be this… _Helena_.'” Claudia’s eyebrows raise and her voice deepens, lips forming a small sneer as she attempts to mimic Amanda. She glances at Abigail and widens her eyes, nodding once.

Abigail nods back. “And H.G. says ‘And you must be Amanda. Very pleased to meet you.'” Abigail assumes Helena’s accent and juts out a hand for Claudia to shake.

"I thought you'd be taller,” Claudia announces, deadpan. She limply shakes Abigail’s hand then adjusts her posture to further embody Amanda.

“You’re much taller than I imagined,” Abigail sarcastically quips. She tosses her hair then adopts a defensive Helena-like stance, one foot forward, hand on hip.

Claudia bites her cheek while giving Abigail a once over. “I _do_ see what she sees in you."

Abigail pulls her neck back and arches a brow.

"The hair. The clothes. Your...je ne sais quoi.” Claudia sweeps a hand in Abigail’s direction, then abruptly spins toward Myka and chuckles. “She actually said that. For reals. I mean, who in the world says that?"

“Amanda _is_ special that way, you know,” Abigail groans.

Myka scowls.

Claudia jumps up and down and shakes her head back and forth. “Ok, ok, ok. I broke the flow. Let's pick it up.”

She fills her lungs and sticks out her chest. With a dour face, she strides up to Abigail. “Your…je ne sais quoi."

Abigail animates, nostrils flaring, eyes narrowing. “Is that a problem?” Her Helena impression wobbles as she stifles a laugh.

Claudia stays on target, lips flattening, nose wrinkling, eyes turning cold. “No. Your tenuous vocation and constraints as a mother are the problem.”

Abigail scowls, forcing herself back into character. “How is that any of your concern?”

“Myka's on the rise, Helena. She’s going places, places you are patently _not._ ” Claudia waves an arm theatrically.

Abigail glares at Claudia, sucking in her cheeks. “I see. And these places...you just happen to be going there as well—"

“I’m already there, Helena. Myka will be, too, very soon."

“How nice for you.” Abigail flicks a hand at Claudia as she turns and slowly walks away.

"Enjoy your time with Myka while you can. I'm sure she’s having fun with—“

Claudia pauses dramatically while Abigail swings around to face her.

“ _You_.” She spits the word out then puffs a loud breath from her nose.

Claudia breaks character and turns to Myka. “H.G.’s hands were totally balled into fists. And if we were anywhere but here, I’m sure she'd have slugged her.” She smacks a fist into her palm.

Myka flinches. Her neck stiffens. "I’ve got to talk to her.”

She spins on a heel and exits the room, swiftly descending the stairs. With a clear resolve, she weaves through the crowd toward the front entrance but stops as she passes Amanda chatting with some friends.

"You can be a real jerk sometimes, you know?” Myka blurts angrily at the back of Amanda’s head.

"I merely say what I see,” Amanda responds without turning around.

Myka’s hands tense, nails biting sharply into her palms. Her eyes tighten, and her mouth pinches as she walks off.

The crowd thickens as she approaches the front exit. She presses through and nearly makes to the street when a dense body blocks her path.

“Myka!” a man’s voice chirps cheerfully.

Myka glares blankly at the man, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

“Pete! Remember me?” His introduction comes out too loudly, irritating Myka to the core.

She squints and cranes her neck forward, searching his face for something recognizable. “Kelly’s boyfriend? How’s she doing by the way?”

“OK, actually. She found a new place pretty quickly and a new guy around the same time.” Pete throws Myka a set of sad eyes.

“Sorry,” Myka sighs, thinking this is the last thing she needs right now. Her brow wrinkles. “Pete, why are you here?"

“Oh!” Pete does a little hop and claps his hands together, smiling proudly. “So I remembered you said you made art ’n stuff, so I googled you. And this was the first thing that popped up.”

Myka’s genuinely surprised Pete knows how to use a computer, and slightly put off that she was so easy to find. Then again if she wants people to see her art, she needs to be searchable.

“So you’re here to see my art?” She grimaces, thinking from the little she knows about Pete this seems fairly implausible.

“No, I’m here because you’re hot.” Pete wags his eyebrows up and down.

“What?” Myka’s grimace now borders on a scowl.

Pete grins excitedly. “You always had that hot nerd thing going on, so since Kelly and I split, I thought I’d take my chances.”

Myka closes her eyes and takes in deep breath. “Ok listen."

Her eyes pop open, and she lifts a finger. "Right now I need to find my _girlfriend_ , who is outside on the street somewhere.” She points to the door then pokes Pete in the chest. “You should talk to the tall blonde over there and tell her Myka sent you. You’re more her type." Her head turns and she thrusts her finger in Amanda’s direction.

Pete’s jaw drops as he spies Amanda. “Wowsa!" His feet move instantly.

He pauses while threading through the crowd and glances back at Myka. “Thanks! And good luck with your lady.” He winks.

Myka’s lips purse, but lift up on one side. She takes another deep breath and walks out the door.

On the sidewalk outside she finds several groups of people milling about smoking and talking, but no Helena. She asks around; no one recalls having seen her. She scans the area and is rattled by the sound of a sharp, loud, thud, emanating from somewhere in the distance. When it comes for a second time, a few other people look around for the source.

Myka decides the sound’s origin lies nearby in a small park and crosses the street to investigate. She cautiously surveys the scene then the sound comes again, only louder this time. As she turns a corner, she discovers Helena kicking a green mailbox relay station. Helena places her elbows on top and drops her head into her hands.

"I think everyone feels that way about the U.S. Postal Service." Myka shuffles over to intercept but stops a few paces away.

Helena looks up, clearly startled, dark eyes glowering.

Myka tries to diffuse the situation with humor. “Working with those construction guys has really put you in touch with your primal side, huh?” She throws Helena a warm crooked smile.

Helena takes a step back from the mailbox and drops her eyes down.

Myka moves a little closer and tips Helena’s chin up. Her smile withers as she meets Helena’s forlorn gaze. "Claudia and Abigail told me what happened. Why did you let Amanda say those things to you?”

Helena stares at Myka as if gathering her thoughts. “It’s your night, and she's your friend. It wouldn’t do to cause a scene."

Myka lowers her arm. "And storming out and kicking something is helping?”

“It was best to remove myself from the situation.” Helena casts her eyes down again.

"Do you believe what she said?”

"I believe you’re on the up, yes.” Helena looks up, eyes brightening.

"But the rest?” Myka folds her arms over her chest and leans her weight on her back foot.

Helena jams her hands into her pockets. "I know her type all too well. She pushes buttons to draw attention to her assumed superiority. To be honest, it wasn’t worth arguing with her."

"But do you believe what she said about you?” Myka unfolds her arms.

“No,” Helena answers unconvincingly. Her chin drops and she fingers the bottom of her tie.

Myka makes a split second decision to change the subject. “How’s Christina?”

Helena’s lips form a small smile and her eyes warm. “Much better, thank you. She has a few more days of antibiotic drops, but overall this bout has been better than the last."

“Does she get ear infections a lot?” Myka mentally scolds herself as the thought hadn’t occurred to her this could be a reoccurring problem.

“There was a point where she had surgery to have tubes placed in her ears. She’s been better since then though we still need to be vigilant."

Helena casts her eyes down and scuffs a foot over the concrete. “It’s all my fault, keeping her out in the rain like that, not drying her ears properly. I’m a terrible mother."

Myka reaches towards Helena's arm, but Helena shirks back. “Helena you’re not a—“

“Then where is she now? I stomped off and left her in there to be cared for by others, without asking their consent."

“She was with Erica. And Claudia was right there. You knew she’d be fine, Helena. You have to give yourself a break sometimes.” Myka’s face pinches.

Helena looks away and crosses her arms tightly.

Myka stares at Helena, taking in the entirety of her body language. “There’s something else, isn’t there. That’s not everything."

Helena sucks in a long, deep breath and releases it slowly through her nose. She pulls in her cheeks, then speaks without looking at Myka. “My hours have been cut. At work."

“What?” Myka’s hand flies up to cover her mouth. "Can they do that?"

“Since my visa is still under review, apparently it’s possible.”

“When did they tell you?"

“Monday.” Helena eyes Myka apologetically.

“Helena, it’s Thursday,” Myka barks. "Why didn’t you say something sooner?"

“You were far too busy. I didn’t want to trouble you."

“Helena…” Myka’s tone softens. She pulls Helena into a hug.

“You’ll be ok, right? Your papers, they're ok?"

“I’m...not entirely sure,” Helena mumbles into Myka’s shoulder.

Myka takes a step back. "How can you not be sure?"

Helena averts her eyes. “Giselle took care of the details."

“Giselle.” Myka’s voice hardens.

Helena swings around and gives the mailbox a weak kick.

Myka grabs Helena’s shoulders from behind. “Stop."

Helena closes her eyes. “This is your night, Myka. My troubles have no place here."

Myka slides her hands down the sides of Helena’s arms and snakes them around Helena’s stomach. She pulls her in close.

Helena’s body slackens. She leans into Myka’s embrace.

Myka nuzzles her nose into Helena’s dark mane while mulling over everything Helena’s just said. They’ll definitely have to talk about this sometime, but Helena’s right, now is not the time.

She spins Helena around and gives her a once over: the crisp black pants, the form-fitting button down, the warm violet tie…she admits to herself she’d rather skip the opening and take Helena home immediately.

“Ok fine. Then walk back in there with me and be my unbelievably hot date.”

Helena blinks then beams affectionately at Myka. “Alright. But may I have a moment alone before joining you?” Her lips form a strained smile.

“Of course.” Myka gives Helena’s tie a tug and places an insistent kiss on her lips. “But hurry back. I want to show you off.” She flashes a smug smile.

Helena smirks humbly in return.

Myka releases Helena’s tie and wanders back to the gallery solo, glancing over her shoulder toward Helena from time to time as she walks. She crosses the street and hears the sharp thud of a mailbox being kicked one last time as she enters the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: A little interlude before Myka’s trip.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **A little interlude before Myka’s trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some strong language at the end here but also some hefty fluff too. Myka and Helena, perhaps unsurprisingly, continue finding it hard to connect. Myka has some realizations concerning the role she’s beginning to play in Christina’s life. 
> 
> NOTE: This should read much better than the draft over on Tumblr. I know I keep saying that, but it is the truth. Also, feedback: friendly, constructive, critical, or whatever, always welcome. Feel free to shoot me a line.

——————————

> _“There's a ton of the twist, But we're fresh out of shout"_  
>  ― LCD Soundsystem, _New York I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down_

\-----------------

Myka spots Helena sifting through the crowd, and a sense of relief washes over her. Lifting up on her toes, she gives an animated wave and flashes an open-mouthed smile.

Helena’s eyes light up as they meet Myka's. She mouths “Christina,” her brows angling in question. Myka motions across the room toward Claudia. Helena nods and shifts in that direction.

Myka’s smile fades as she watches Helena pass her by. She's a little slighted but knows she needs to shake it off. Of course Helena would attend to Christina first, she thinks, especially considering their earlier conversation.

Helena joins Myka a few minutes later and spends the greater part of the evening tooling around on her arm.

The lights flicker on and off as event winds down. Myka and Helena join Abigail, Claudia, and Christina on the upper floor. Christina barrels toward Helena and clings to her side, head wilting heavily.

Helena scrutinizes Christina then cheerlessly announces they should head home soon as it’s a school night. Claudia steps closer and offers to take the reins but Christina snuggles further into Helena's side, tugging insistently on Helena’s shirt. Helena crouches down, angling her eyes toward Myka as Christina whispers something in her ear.

"She says her ears hurt from the all the noise.” Her lips form a sad smirk. She rises and runs a hand through Christina's curls.

Christina looks up at Helena wearing sullen, droopy eyes.

Helena raises a brow while eyeing Christina worriedly. “This wasn’t an issue earlier when Erica was here."

Christina juts out her bottom lip and widens her eyes.

Helena’s mouth downturns as she huffs out a sharp breath. She throws Myka a look filled with sincere regret.

“Myka, I'm sor—"

Myka thrusts her fingers over Helena’s lips, silently wishing she could also cover her ears. Apologies barely douse the feeling of disappointment filling her chest right now, yet she knows she can’t beg Helena to reconsider in front of an eight-year-old. She looks Helena directly in the eye and tells herself there will be other afterparties, other chances to spend time out in the world as a couple. She needs to let this go.

"I'm glad you both could come,” she pertly declares while giving a weak, cordial smile. Her arm drops and her head tilts as she glances at Christina. “Did you have fun tonight?"

Christina grins. “Yeah."

Helena gazes affectionately at Christina. “She was terribly excited to see your art this evening, Myka. She’s a huge fan. Though I’m thinking she may have fibbed slightly in regards to feeling up to the task."

Myka consciously lightens her mood, deciding it’s sweet of Christina to have come out tonight if she's not feeling well. “What’s your favorite painting, Christina?"

Christina gives the room a quick glance and points to a painting in the corner. “That one.”

Helena cocks her head and eyes the painting thoughtfully. “It _is_ quite nice. The combination of moss green and umber reminds me of Myka’s beautiful eyes.” Helena looks directly at Myka, eyes aglow.

Myka smiles bashfully. “Do you have a favorite, Helena?”

“I like them all.”

The longer Myka holds on to Helena’s gaze, the more her unease over Helena’s eminent departure lessens. She admits to herself Helena’s charm has won her over.

She takes a step forward and threads her fingers under Helena's tie. "We'll talk soon, ok?"

“Of course."

Myka yanks Helena forward into a soft, lingering kiss. She reluctantly releases Helena’s lips as Claudia clears her throat.

“Sorry,” Myka mouths with a sheepish smile.

Helena snaps into action. “Christina, say goodbye to Myka and Abigail."

Christina gives Myka a hug and waves goodbye to Abigail.

Helena glances mindfully at Claudia. “Coming?"

Claudia's eyes dart from Abigail to Myka. “Negative. I’m gonna hang with these fine ladies and have some fun in the ‘hood."

Helena grimaces playfully, then kisses Myka lightly on the cheek. “Your paintings are fantastic, love. Congratulations."

“Thank you.” Myka feels her cheeks warm.

“Talk soon,” Helena chirps and takes hold of Christina’s hand. The pair weaves through the remains of the crowd and gives a small wave before disappearing down the stairs.

\--------------------

Myka, Claudia, and Abigail make their way to a nearby restaurant to attend the exhibition dinner and afterparty. The three eat, chat, and mingle until well after midnight. Amanda insists they join her afterward at another soiree, but Myka graciously declines, thinking she might die if she has to manage one more thing today.

As they exit the bar, Claudia says her goodbyes and saunters off toward home. Myka and Abigail hail a cab and travel to Myka’s apartment. Myka gives directions to the driver, then settles in for the ride.

“I’m so beat, Abs.” Myka rubs an eye as she reclines.

“You look it. I’m guessing you haven’t slept much?"

“That’d be a big fat no.” Myka slumps down in her seat and tilts her head to rest on the top edge.

“Thanks for coming out tonight.” She manages a tired smile in Abigail’s direction.

“My pleasure. You know I’ll jump at any excuse to leave that podunk town I’m in."

Myka snickers.

Abigail places a hand on Myka’s shoulder. “I’m really proud of you, you know."

“Why?” Myka lolls her head toward Abigail.

Abigail squeezes Myka’s shoulder. “Look at you. You’ve done an amazing job of pulling yourself together after everything that’s happened.”

“Thanks.” Myka's lips curl to form a lopsided grin, thinking Abigail’s the best at cheering her up.

“And things seem pre-tty cozy with Helena."

Myka’s grin fades.

“What?” Abigail's hand slides off Myka’s shoulder.

Myka shifts in her seat. "I’m worried about my trip next week.”

“Why?"

“Claudia says Helena gets all weird when she travels and doesn’t respond to texts and calls."

Abigail pauses to think. “Sounds like a coping mechanism to me. Helena has some serious abandonment issues, and her only touchstones are Claudia and Christina. When her balance is thrown off, I’m sure she freaks out a little."

Myka’s eyes glass over as she considers this.

“And now you’re now part of the mix. Not to get all therapist-y on you at one in the morning, but my advice is: if she’s distant, be persistent. Try to be as understanding as possible. Just keep letting her know you're there."

“Ok,” Myka mouths assuredly as her head nods in tiny strokes. “There’s just...so many things I don’t know about her, Abs.”

“Such as?”

"Claudia told me she’s a computer genius."

“So under all that amazing hair, she's a super-nerd?"

“Yeah. Right.” Myka gives a half-hearted laugh as her expression falls flat. “But she doesn't know I know."

“And that bothers you?”

“I guess. I mean, I have no idea what her favorite color is or her favorite food..."

“These are the burning questions you have for her, Myka?” Abigail raises a sarcastic brow.

Myka heaves a sigh. "I don’t know. I mean they’re normal things to know. When you’re in a relationship."

“‘Normal’ and ‘Helena’ don't really fit in a sentence together, do they?"

Myka grimaces.

“I don't mean that in a bad way.” Abigail straightens in her seat. "What degree of ‘normal' we’re talking about here. Sam?"

Myka throws a deathly scowl at Abigail.

“Fine. Bad comparison.” Abigail pinches her lips. "Then enlighten me. What _do_ you two talk about when you’re alone?"

“We don’t, um, talk much when we’re alone.” Myka feels as if she’s blushing.

Abigail smacks Myka on the arm, hard.

Myka gasps. “What was that for?"

“You're _seriously_ complaining that all you do is make out with her?"

"I—“ Myka’s mouth goes slack. Her eyes glaze over. “Well, no.” Her lips rise slowly, forming a knowing, lopsided grin.

“Then you're good.” Abigail leans back and arches a brow. She rubs her hands together. “Now, I want details, woman, details..."

\-------

Abigail and Myka grab a quick breakfast in the city before parting ways; Abigail, back to Providence; Myka, on to the gallery.

Myka dreads not only the day but the evening, too, as she’s scheduled to meet with Vanessa and a few clients after work. Her biggest hope is that coffee will prop her up, and she can somehow teleport home to pass out.

Her wish remains unfulfilled as Vanessa gratuitously invites her along for dinner. She accepts, feeling it would be rude turn the offer down and muddles through the evening the best she can. Hopping in a cab around nine, she tumbles out of the car a half an hour later in Brooklyn. She stumbles up the stairs to her apartment and immediately sets her alarm upon entering her room. Dropping face first into the bed, she falls asleep in minutes.

Her eyes blink open as a persistent buzzing sound registers in her mind. At first her limbs won’t move, but she wills them into action and drags herself up to silence the noise. She lethargically prepares for the day, then slogs out the door and onto the train to work.

Vanessa is out of the office and thankfully her day passes uneventfully. She conserves as much energy as possible for the evening when she and a few other artists will be giving a talk about their work. Mid-afternoon she realizes she forgot to invite Helena. She hastily shoots her a text.

_\- Hi! I’m giving an artist talk at the gallery tonight. Stop by if you can? Starts at 7._

She reads the text back after sending and thinks it sounds way too chirpy. Better lay off the coffee.

_\- Bollocks. Working 6-4 tonight._

Myka stares at the phone, feeling sad that Helena has to work that many hours, thinking should propose something else for another time but finds she can barely imagine a time past tonight. Helena texts back before she can respond.

_\- Spend the day with us tomorrow?_

Her heart sinks as she reads the words. She frowns as she types her reply.

_\- Working Sunday til 5. Makeup day for Wed._

She hits send and slides down in her chair, staring crossly at the tiny screen. Why is this always so complicated, she thinks. Why can’t anyone have a regular schedule?

_\- Dinner, after work, at the apartment?_

Her cheeks puff out as she exhales forcefully. She could have, should have, thought of that. Though honestly she might fall asleep the moment she hits Helena's couch.

_\- Yes! Great! Yes!_

Too emphatic, she muses, but truthful. It’s a good idea.

_\- Excellent. Sorry to miss your talk. Best of luck!_

Myka’s lips curl up at the ends as she sets the phone down. She stares into space for a moment, then lowers her head onto the desk and closes her eyes. She’s about to drift off when her office phone rings.

\------

Myka's barely cognizant throughout the rest of the day and into the evening. Her portion of the artist talk is fifteen minutes, and truthfully her hazy tiredness has held any form of nervousness at bay. As her colleagues drone on she longingly eyes a corner, feeling it’d be perfectly acceptable to curl up and fall asleep right there in the gallery. Post-talk, Amanda tries her best to coax Myka out for drinks, but there's no way Myka can comply. She promptly heads home.

Sunday passes much like Saturday. Myka remains overtired but feels lighter knowing she’ll be seeing Helena tonight. When five o’clock arrives, she’s riding high on a second wind. She does a little shopping on her way to Helena’s and arrives shortly before six.

Myka lets herself into the building and ascends the stairs. She rings Helena's doorbell.

A few seconds later, the door cracks open.

“Hey, Christina, can I come in?"

“Yeah, but don’t let Dewy out."

“Gotcha.” Myka slips through the crack and blocks the exit the best she can. She swiftly pushes the door shut.

Dewy glares at the now closed door and blinks at Myka. He thrusts his tail in the air and saunters toward the couch, unfazed.

“Sorry, buddy.”

Myka feels a small body crash into her.

“Myka!” Christina yelps.

“Hey, kid. I brought you something.” Myka tousles Christina’s hair and hands her a box.

“Yay!” Christina's eyes light up as she recognizes the packaging.

“No fancy drawings today, just straight up sugar.” Myka glances at Helena in the kitchen.

Helena raises a brow.

“And I brought lemonade." Myka lifts a paper bag and gives a sheepish grin.

Helena smiles. “Right on time. Dinner will be ready soon."

Myka's grin widens, mind flashing back to her earlier fantasy involving wrapping her arms around Helena while cooking. Who knew such fantasies could come true? She sets the lemonade and her purse on the counter then eagerly slips her arms around Helena’s waist. Pulling her close, she gives Helena a tender kiss on the cheek.

Helena leans back into Myka’s hug. "Hello, weary traveler. You must be exhausted from the weekend."

“Don’t remind me.” Myka's body sags. She crumples further into Helena, nose nuzzling into Helena's neck.

“I can’t finish dinner if I’m propping you up.” Helena waves a wooden spoon in the direction of the couch. "Sit."

Myka twists her head and eyes the couch as if it were a long lost friend. “Ok.” She reluctantly releases Helena and lurches toward the couch.

Helena searches the room for Christina. “Christina, could you help by fetching the plates and glasses, please."

“Ok!” Christina scuttles into the kitchen and drags her step stool in front of the sink. She clambers up and pulls down three plates and three glasses one by one.

“Can I help?” Myka offers from the couch.

“Stay put,” Helena orders brusquely, waving her spoon. “Relax."

Myka releases a deep breath and sinks into a corner of the couch. She closes her eyes and lets the sounds of plates clanking, ice cubes clinking and silverware plinking fill her mind. Soon shuffling feet are approaching.

She pulls herself up and finds three plates of food adorning the coffee table. Helena and Christina stand in the kitchen preparing drinks. Dewy jumps on the couch and sticks his nose in the food.

“Whoa, buddy. Close enough.” Myka scoops Dewy up and drops him unceremoniously onto the floor.

Christina places her drink on the table and slides across the couch to sit next to Myka. Helena sets Myka’s drink in front of her and circles around to settle next to Christina.

“Bon Appetit,” Helena announces, and everyone digs in.

Helena instigates light conversation. “How was your talk last night, Myka?”

“It was pretty packed. There were a lot of questions from people I didn’t know, which was unexpected, but good.” Myka spears a potato.

“Fantastic,” Helena exclaims while chewing on a broccoli stalk.

“And, get this, the gallery sold a few paintings already.” Myka smiles smugly to herself while absently pushing food around on her plate. She glances at Helena, eyes gleaming.

“My, aren’t we on the up, love." Helena beams at Myka. She sets her fork down and reclines on the couch.

Myka follows, heart swelling as she drinks in Helena’s adoring gaze.

Christina unknowingly interrupts. “Mom, I like these potatoes a lot."

Helena gives a small chuckle, mouth forming a humble grin. She leans forward to join Christina. “Why, thank you, dear.”

Myka sags further into the couch as she stares blankly at Helena and Christina’s backs. She finds herself tearing up as she listens to the pair discuss cooking, suddenly overcome with affection for them both. Deciding she must be loopy from lack of sleep, she breathes out a sharp, cleansing breath and bends forward, diving industriously back into her food.

The three chat casually while dining. Helena suggests drawing time with Myka once the meal is cleared and Christina lets out an excited squeal. Myka readily agrees and pulls her sketchbook out of her bag. Christina scurries about gathering other supplies.

Helena cleans up, then joins in the activities by grabbing a marker and construction paper off the table. She plops down on the floor, positioning herself to face Myka and Christina, then begins sketching furiously, glancing up from time to time. Myka cranes her neck, curious to glean what Helena's drawing, but Helena huddles over, protecting her work from Myka’s scrutiny.

Upon completion, Helena holds the drawing at arms length and closes one eye. Jutting out her out her bottom lip, she gives a nod of satisfaction and sets her work aside on the floor. She shuffles on her knees closer to the coffee table.

“I believe it’s someone’s bedtime,” she mouths tunefully.

“Aw, mom. One more drawing?” Christina leans toward Myka.

Myka glances at Christina and wraps a loving arm around her.

Helena grins warmly. “Alright. But when Myka and I finish tidying, you'll be on your way."

Christina scoots to the edge of the couch and quickly grabs a purple crayon. She scribbles earnestly on a light green sheet of paper.

Helena stacks the evening’s drawings neatly and throws crayons into a Tupperware container.

Myka gazes at Helena with a keen interest. “What did you draw?"

Helena breathes out a humored breath. “Wouldn’t you like to know."

“Can I see?”

“It’s not very good.”

“Please?” Myka blinks demurely.

Helena twists and plucks the drawing from the floor. She gives it a once over and hands it to Myka.

Myka smirks smugly as she snatches the drawing from Helena's fingers. Her smirk fades as she scrutinizes the image on the page. Helena's drawing shows the entire room, along with likenesses of herself and Christina working fastidiously on the couch. She’s impressed but also a little envious; Helena's lines are confident, her proportions immaculate and the rendering quite sweet.

“As I said, nothing of merit.” Helena eyes Myka anxiously.

Myka stares at the drawing. “Helena, this is good. Like, really good. Why didn’t you tell me you could draw like this?"

“It’s merely a doodle.”

“Can I see?” Christina clambers onto Myka's lap.

Myka flashes Christina the drawing.

Christina giggles. “You should put Dewy in there, Mom!"

Helena smiles meekly. “Perhaps I'll add him later."

Myka’s lips pinch, but her eyes sparkle as she eyes Helena reverently. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Yes,” Helena enthuses. "Sew. Mother taught both Charles and I, but I was all thumbs."

Myka heaves a sigh, thinking Helena's probably better at that than her, too. She lays the drawing on the table.

Helena changes the subject, brightening her tone. “Times up for young ladies with crayons. Teeth brushing and face washing is in order, then off to bed we go.” She rises and extends a hand to Christina.

Christina sets down her crayon and hops off the couch.

“I’ll be back shortly. You stay put.” Helena nods.

Myka smirks. “Helena's mantra for the evening: ’stay put.’” Her head ticks back and forth as she mimics Helena’s accent.

Helena scrunches up her nose. “Where you're concerned, yes."

“Mom, I’m done,” Christina announces as she finishes her evening rituals. The pair soon disappears into Christina’s room.

Myka yawns and decides to take advantage of the couch while she waits. She slides her statuesque frame onto the surface and rests her head on the pillow by the arm. Her eyes flutter closed immediately, and her body relaxes, tension sinking into the soft cushions. She promptly falls asleep.

An indeterminate amount of time later, she’s roused by the feel of fingers threading through her hair and the sing-song sound of her name in her ear.

“Mykaaa..."

“Mmmm?” Myka mumbles, barely aware that she's dozed off.

“Go to bed. I’ve left some clothes out for you.” Helena places a soft kiss behind Myka’s ear.

“Mhmm,” Myka mouths with a sleepy smile. Her eyes stay closed.

“I’m going to pop in the shower.”

Myka’s smile droops. “No."

Helena resumes combing through Myka’s curls. “But I must. I shudder to think the state this hair will be in tomorrow without one."

Myka sniggers. Her smile returns.

Helena's tone deadpans. "I'd have done it earlier, after work, but the day slipped away from me."

"Go. Now. Quick.”

Helena pulls away.

Myka opens her eyes a crack.

“Warm the bed for me?"

“Uh-huh.” Helena's apologetic smile leaves Myka no choice. She’ll do whatever the pretty lady says.

Helena rises.

Myka peels herself off the couch and lazily follows Helena into the bedroom.

“Clothes are just there.” Helena nods.

Myka glances briefly at the clothes, then back at Helena, eyes gleaming affectionately through heavy lids.

Helena steps closer and slides her hands lightly along Myka’s jaw. She threads her fingers through Myka's curls and guides her into a tender, sultry kiss.

Helena takes a step back, slowly lowering her arms to her sides. Myka moves forward seeking further contact and weakly reaches out to grab Helena’s upper arm. Helena gives Myka a gentle push on the chest. Myka falls helplessly onto the bed.

“I’ll be back,” Helena announces, flashing a warm, suggestive smile.

Myka beams dreamily at Helena, eyes following her form until she exits the room. Scooting to the front of the bed, she undresses clumsily and tugs on the clothes Helena left for her, noting they’re a little tight in certain areas. She dives head first onto the bed, then crawls up and under the covers. As her head hits the pillow, she hears the sound of water running in the tub.

It's like a dream to be lying in Helena’s bed again, she thinks, and her blood to warms at the thought of Helena soon lying next to her. Maybe she can stay awake long enough for something amorous to happen. Or maybe, just maybe, and quietly, of course, _more_ than a little of something can happen. She finds the prospect positively arousing.

Closing her eyes tightly, she tries to calm her swirling, overtired brain. The sounds of muffled voices and water splashing fill her ears as her body slackens, sinking into soft, Helena scented sheets. She soon dozes off.

She’s jostled out of half-slumber by the sensation of the bed shaking. Thinking its cause must be Helena, she turns to greet her wearing a provocative but drowsy grin. She’s surprised to find her company is not as expected.

“Christina, honey, what’s up.” Myka’s smile fades as she fights back a yawn.

“It’s too loud. I can’t sleep."

Myka listens for a moment. The street noise doesn’t seem overly loud to her. “What's loud?”

“The people, on the roof."

“What roof?”

“I always sleep with Mom when they’re loud.”

“Right.” Myka can barely keep her eyes open, but understands knows she needs to fix this if she wants some alone time with Helena. "Maybe we can close your window?”

“It’s stuck,” Christina pouts.

Myka lets out a weighted breath. “Ok. Let me take a look."

Myka wills herself up and out of bed, then shuffles into Christina’s room. She walks over to the window and yanks on the bottom of the frame, but it won’t budge. As she struggles, the noisy din of patrons at the bar next door registers in her brain. She sticks her head out and sees a crowd of people on the roof terrace. Two men stand near the airshaft wall closest to Christina’s room, smoking, talking and drinking.

She leans back in and gives the window a firm jiggle, but freezes as the men’s conversation wafts into the room.

_“Dude, Barry says he fucked her, but man...that fucker was way too fucked up for that shit.”_

_"Bro, he was wasted! I saw him spew all over the fuckin' street before that party we crashed."_

_"The one with those girls from Jersey? At that rich dude’s crib?"_

_"Heh. Yeah. That place was sick."_

Myka fights back the urge to shout "shut up” and hurl the closest a heavy object she can find at their heads. She yanks on the window again, but it won’t give. There’s no way Christina can sleep in here, she thinks. And anyway those jerks are so loud she’d certainly hear their lewd conversation through the closed window. Plus the smoke is unacceptable.

She slips out of Christina's room and slides back into bed, outraged that Christina had to hear any of what those men were saying.

Christina cozies up to her.

Myka possessively wraps an arm around Christina. “You ok, honey? I’m sorry those men were loud."

“I’m sleepy."

“Your mom will be here soon."

“I like you here, too, Myka.” Christina snuggles closer.

Myka gives Christina a comforting squeeze and feels herself tearing up for the second time tonight, overjoyed to be considered someone Christina trusts. This little girl needs all the protection she can get, she thinks, and she’s ready and willing to step up as a protector. So what if sex with Helena has to wait until Christina’s in college. Nine, ten years? Fine. She can wait.

The pair settles into each other, both drifting into a light slumber. Myka rouses at the sound of Helena tiptoeing into the room and sliding under the covers.

Christina rolls over and latches onto her mom. Myka turns to face Helena and squints through the dark to catch her gaze.

Helena eyes Myka helplessly. “Myka, I’m— "

Myka twists and reaches across Christina, thrusting a hand over Helena’s mouth. “Sssh. It’s ok."

Dewy chooses that moment to hop onto the bed. He climbs over Helena and nestles himself between Christina and Myka, purring loudly.

Helena wraps an arm around Christina and extends her hand to Myka. Myka takes hold and grasps it tightly.

"Helena, how do you do it?” Myka whispers.

“Do what?"

"All that you do. You work so much and so hard, take care of Christina, and fit me in somehow."

“I’m afraid I do none of it terribly well."

“I think you’re amazing."

Helena grips Myka’s hand tighter, then relaxes. “Get some sleep. You must be exhausted."

“I’m—“ Myka nearly argues but decides there’s no point. “Yeah."

“Goodnight, love."

“Goodnight.” Myka feels Christina shift further into Helena. Dewy adjusts accordingly.

Myka threads her fingers through Helena’s and pulls Helena's hand close. As her tension fades, a feeling of utter contentment fills her consciousness. She drifts off into a deep sleep in an instant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: An unexpected visitor throws a wrench into things before Myka’s trip.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***An unexpected visitor throws a wrench into things before Myka’s trip.

———————————

> _It isn't like the rest of the country - it is like a nation itself - more tolerant than the rest in a curious way. Littleness gets swallowed up here. All the viciousness that makes other cities vicious is sucked up and absorbed in New York._  
>  John Steinbeck

\-------------------

Myka stirs as the bed moves. She opens her eyes a crack and spies Christina climbing over Helena, out of bed. Dewy bounds after her.

Helena turns and squints at Myka through sleepy eyes. “Goodmorning,” she groggily mumbles under her breath.

“Mmph,” Myka softly murmurs in response.

“Fivemoreminutes.” Helena rolls over and lays her head on Myka’s shoulder, nose nuzzling intimately into Myka’s clavicle. She slips a hand under Myka’s shirt and lets it skim across Myka’s stomach, coming to rest palming Myka’s waist.

“Mmm." Myka slides her arm under Helena’s torso and draws her close.

Helena sinks into Myka as she falls into a half-slumber.

Myka smiles, eyes closed, concentrating on the warmth transferring from Helena’s arm to her bare skin. She tilts her head to lean on Helena’s, wistfully wishing she could wake up like this every day. Soon, she too drifts off.

Ten minutes later, Christina hops on the bed and jumps up and down. “Mom, getupgetupgetupgetup!"

Helena’s eyes fly open. She sluggishly rolls toward Christina and places a hand on her arm. “Stop. Please."

Christina stills.

“Thank you." Helena tiredly wets her lips. “Did you feed the cat?"

“Uh-huh.” Christina bounces lightly.

"Eat your breakfast?”

"Yep."

Helena audibly exhales. “Alright. I suppose I'll pack your lunch."

She turns and cranes her neck, placing a sleepy kiss on Myka's lips. “Stay put."

Myka grins drowsily as her eyes struggle to stay open while Helena slides out of bed. She pulls the covers around herself tightly and hugs a pillow in Helena’s absence.

She drifts in and out of consciousness as Helena and Christina prepare for school and work, faintly registering the sound of shoes crossing the floor as a signal for their eminent departure. She feels the bed move as Helena sits.

“We’re off, love. Stay as long as you like. Rest as much as you can before your trip.” Helena runs a hand raggedly through Myka’s thick curls.

“Mmmm,” Myka purrs in approval. “Dinner, Tuesday?”

“Yes. Perhaps just the two of us, hm?"

Myka’s eyes blink open, and her lips rise to form a wide but dozy grin.

"I’ll see what I can do.” Helena kisses Myka one last time and soon is out the door.

————

Myka wakes to the sound of her stomach is rumbling. She’s not sure what time it is, but her body is saying it’s time to get up. The blanket shifts by her feet and she looks down to find Dewy dozing with her. He blinks, then settles back into a ball. Her head falls onto the pillow, and she yawns. Five more minutes...

Her eyes open an indeterminate amount of time later. Lying motionless, she stares at the ceiling and tells herself she really needs to get up. She lifts the covers and slides out then hazily makes her way to the bathroom. Shuffling into the kitchen, she automatically assembles and fills the coffee maker, placing it on the stove to percolate. She pulls down a bowl and, for lack of better breakfast options, pours some cereal, then roots around the fridge for milk. As the coffee gurgles to fruition, she turns off the burner and pours the contents into a mug, adding a splash of milk. She carries both the bowl and mug into the living room and sets them on the coffee table before plopping heavily on the couch.

Eyeing the room as she sips her coffee, she feels a sense of deja vu, as if this moment could easily be one from a month prior. Everything remains the same, which she finds infinitely comforting. In fact, she briefly laments having ever moved out. If she’d stayed and things escalated between herself and Helena, she’d be sleeping with Helena every night, walking to work every day, caring for Christina more regularly. Of course, the apartment would be cramped and "alone time" with Helena would be tricky, but she’d trade those conditions for holding onto her present sense of composure and belonging.

Heaving a heavy sigh, she admits to herself it’s pointless to mull over “what ifs.” Things happened the way they did for a reason and while it may seem cut and dry now, if she were to travel back in time, she’s sure she would have repeated her same actions. She wasn’t that close to Helena yet and time needed to pass for their relationship to grow. This apartment kept her grounded when she was truly adrift, and it’s inevitable that she’d feel some displacement once she left.

She finishes her cereal and moves to the bookshelves, thinking she might read a little before heading home to pack for her trip. She briefly eyes the books, but her gaze catches on the framed photographs sitting on the shelves. Her mind travels back to her early days at Helena’s, before she knew anything about her. She recalls her thoughts about each photo.

She picks up the image of Christina in a Halloween costume, and her lips lift into a warm grin. As she takes in its details, the photo animates. She turns towards the couch and imagines Christina standing there, twirling around in her sparkly purple outfit with a yellow crown, stopping momentarily to pose for the picture. Her outfit looks very much handmade, and she thinks maybe Helena wasn’t exaggerating when she said she wasn’t very good at sewing.

Her gaze moves to scrutinize a second photo. This one shows a birthday cake with the number three on top in a suburban kitchen. She now recognizes Claudia as the woman with the red bob and imagines Helena hovering nearby snapping the shot.

A third photo shows Helena in a back yard holding Christina as a baby. She now assumes Claudia was behind the camera, but the image holds more questions than answers. Did they all live in a house together when Christina was born? Is it the same house they were in when Christina turned three? If that is a lemon tree in the background, is that why Christina loves lemonade so much?

The fourth picture she finds haunting and stares at it for a moment before picking it up. Upon first glance, she remembers laughing at the content, Helena thrusting herself off the edge of a cliff, Christina yanking her back. She now knows Claudia caught the moment and recalls Claudia saying that without Christina, Helena would have already thrown herself off. The image isn't funny at all anymore, and in fact, lies a little too close to the bone. She wonders if Helena keeps it here as a reminder, or maybe it’s a favorite of Christina’s. The next time she’s there for dinner she decides she'll ask.

Placing the photo gently back on the shelf, she eyes the books again, but abandons the idea of reading entirely. Shuffling across the room, she plunks down on couch and shifts her thoughts forward, accepting she needs to move on with her day. Gazing into her empty coffee cup, she decides to shower first before making the trek back to Brooklyn. She towels herself dry and throws on yesterday's clothes but borrows a pair of Helena's underwear, imagining Helena won’t mind. She smiles to herself, thinking while it’s a small gesture, she’s honestly a little thrilled to be wearing her girlfriend's underwear. Her _girlfriend_ , Helena. She likes the sound of that.

\---------------------

Myka scurries down the stairs from her office, preoccupied with final details for her trip. As she reaches the main floor, she scans the gallery for Helena but her view is blocked by a tall blonde man bounding toward her.

"Bunny!” the clean-cut man mouths, flashing a huge smile. He lays his hands roughly on Myka's shoulders and pulls her into a hug.

Myka winces and lifts her arms, reciprocating weakly with a light pat on the back. After an appropriate amount of time, she politely pushes him away.

“Sam. What are you doing here?” She lifts up on her toes and glances over Sam's shoulder, searching for Helena. She spies Helena standing at the front desk, absently flipping through a binder, eyes trained on Sam's back.

Helena's gaze meets Myka's and she raises both brows, silently mouthing “Bunny?”

Sam steps directly in Myka’s line of site. “What kind of greeting is that for an old friend?” He gives an exaggerated frown.

“We haven’t talked in years. How did you find me?”

“I’m in town for a conference, so I looked you up! I saw your show around the corner, and the front desk girl told me you worked here. So I took a chance and stopped by. I thought I'd take you out and we could catch up.” Sam throws Myka his best show grin.

Myka eyes Sam tiredly. “I have an early flight tomorrow. Plus I already have plans.” Her gaze floats to Helena, who inches toward Sam from behind.

Sam looks over his shoulder.

“Hello,” Helena greets, a smug smirk covering her face. She gives a little wave.

Sam spins around, enthusiastically extending his sizeable hand. "Hi, I’m Sam. Sam Martino. Nice to meet ‘cha.”

Helena arches a brow and glances skeptically toward Myka.

Myka smiles sheepishly in return.

Helena accepts Sam’s hand.

Sam’s attention swings toward Myka. “Heeey, why don’t we all get a bite together.” He keeps hold of Helena’s hand a little longer than necessary.

Helena struggles to pull free.

Myka scuddles around Sam to stand next to Helena. She takes Helena’s hand in hers and eyes Helena nervously.

Helena beams at Myka, wearing an affectionate smile.

Myka’s mouth forms a warm grin as she holds Helena's gaze. She squeezes Helena’s hand and looks toward Sam. “Sam, this is my girlfriend, Helena."

Sam's winning smile fades. “Oh.” His eyes drop, acknowledging of the women's intertwined hands, then dart up to meet Myka's.

Myka forces a smile. “We have dinner plans tonight. Helena found a sitter for her daughter and everything."

“Oh.” Sam’s tone rises. He examines Helena curiously, then looks back at Myka, eyes blank.

Myka glances at Helena and angles her brows, unsure of what to say or do next.

Helena stares at Sam tiredly and lets out a resigned sigh. She clenches Myka’s hand. “Perhaps Sam would like to join us? If I’m understanding correctly, you’ve not seen each other in quite some time.”

A lump to rises in Myka's throat at the sound of Helena's forced civility. Her eyes dart toward Sam. “Yeah.”

Sam’s face brightens. “Sounds great!” He throws a possessive arm around Myka and pulls her toward the door.

Myka clutches Helena's hand, towing Helena along with her until their hands slip apart.

Myka looks over her shoulder to confirm Helena is following.

Helena stands, glowering at Sam, lip raised into a small sneer. Her gaze softens as her eyes meet Myka's.

Myka grimaces apologetically then turns back around.

“So, where're we headed?” Sam barks.

Myka tilts her head and wriggles out from under Sam's arm. “To a ramen place up the street. But there’ll be a wait for three.”

"Well, I’m up for anything!"

Myka finds Sam’s enthusiasm grating. She's relieved when Helena surfaces by her side. “Maybe we should go somewhere else?"

“I concur.” Helena grasps hold of Myka’s hand.

“Thoughts?” Myka threads her fingers through Helena’s.

“Sam's the visitor to our humble town; perhaps he has a preference? Something not available in…sorry, where is it you're living again?”

“Iowa.” Myka mouths dryly, answering before Sam can speak.

“Right. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I imagine one may have fewer options when in Iowa.” Helena glances pointedly at Sam.

“It’s not Chicago for sure," Sam blurts, completely unfazed. His eyes dart between Myka and Helena. “How about a burger?"

Myka raises a brow.

Helena rolls her eyes. “Right. I know just the place. Just there." She juts her chin in a northerly direction.

“Super!” Sam swings behind the pair and throws his arms around both Myka and Helena. As they cross the street, Myka’s hand slips from Helena’s.

“Hey, I just realized you have an accent. English, right?" Sam boisterously announces in Helena’s ear.

“Correct.” Helena agrees coolly but cordially. She side eyes Sam with a sigh.

Helena slips out from under Sam’s arm and walks ahead. She turns a corner onto a side street and stops in front of a low-rise weathered brick building. The ground floor is painted bright orange, its facade dotted with a nondescript door and mismatched windows, one of which contains a neon sign announcing “Eat.” Raised letters in black are attached direct to the building, their typography squarish, reminiscent of signs from the 1960’s.

“This place?” Sam says with an undertone of distaste as he and Myka hurry to catch up.

“Yes. Have you been here before?” Helena addresses Myka.

Myka eyes the name of the restaurant “No. But I think I’ve heard of it."

Helena swings the door open, and the three walk through.

“This sure is a hole in the wall,” Sam mouths as he surveys the room. It contains a few tables on the left and a worn wooden bar on the right, all sloping slightly to conform to the floor. The menu is painted directly on the wall, and large multi-colored Christmas lights hang from the ceiling.

“Petite, yes, but of high quality. We tend to streamline things here in New York, tough I have heard Chicago 'makes everything bigger' in order to compete."

Sam eyes Helena blankly. “Yeah, um, right."

Myka grimaces.

The hostess seats the group quickly. A waitress appears and promptly distributes menus.

“Helena?”

All eyes swing toward waitress.

Helena’s eyes light up in recognition. “Natalia. How are you?”

Myka's eyes linger on Natalia, fixating on her full sleeve tattoo. She recognizes an apple, a banana, and possibly, broccoli? There’s definitely an artichoke adorning the woman’s forearm, and peas fill in the negative space.

“I’m good! How’s your daughter?"

“She’s well, thanks.”

Myka's gaze trails up to study the woman more closely. Tall, slim, and attractive, she wears bright red lipstick and dangly geometric earrings. Severe bangs frame her face, and her long black hair is tied up in a loose bun.

Helena glances at Myka.

Myka side-eyes Helena and suddenly realizes she’s been staring. She turns toward Helena and angles her brows.

“Myka this is Natalia; Natalia, Myka.” Helena nods at each woman separately and narrows her eyes in Sam’s direction. "And this is Sam.”

Sam thrusts out a hand. “Sam Martino. Nice to meet ‘cha."

Natalia raises a brow at Helena as she shakes Sam’s hand.

Helena shrugs then glances at Myka.

Myka remains confused.

“Natalia and I used to work together,” Helena mouths, her attention swinging to Natalia. “Though I’m sure you’re much better off here.”

“Can’t complain. You still there?"

“Unfortunately. The new manager’s a complete wanker."

Natalia grimaces. "We should catch up sometime, you know."

“That would be nice,” Helena warmly replies.

Helena’s tone sounds a little too familiar, Myka thinks, and she wonders if there wasn’t something more than working going on between the two. Her eyes dart from Helena to Natalia then on to Sam. Sam gives a garish smile and her jealously withers, thinking if her suspicions are correct, she certainly has no right to be judgmental towards Helena at the moment.

Natalia switches modes. "So what can I get the three of you?"

Helena addresses the table. “They have a lovely chili infused vodka if that appeals to anyone."

“I’ll take one,” Myka anxiously blurts.

Sam leers at Myka, lowering his brow. “Bunny, you never drink before traveling.”

Helena sniggers while failing to hold back a smirk.

Myka scowls at Sam. “Think we’ll all have one."

“And I’ll have a beer. Something light,” Sam announces, then motions toward Helena.

“Just the vodka for me.” Helena glances at Myka.

“Same here, thanks.”

Natalia nods then takes her leave.

Myka swings toward Sam, glowering. “Could you zip it with the ‘Bunny’? You're seriously out of line."

Sam raises his hands in defense. “OK, yeah, right, right. Sorry. Force of habit."

“Habit? It’s been three years—”

“So, Sam, Myka tells me you’re a teacher?” Helena jumps in, assuming an upbeat tone.

Sam’s eyes trail from Myka to Helena. He straightens his spine and puffs out his chest. “Assistant Professor at Iowa State.”

“Impressive. What do you teach?"

“Freshman English mostly, foundations type of stuff."

“Commendable. How do you find it?” Helena reclines and drapes her arm over the back of Myka's chair, fingers scraping lightly across Myka’s waist.

Sam’s eyes follow Helena’s hand. “It can be tough sometimes. My classes are big, but I love it. And I’m warming up to Iowa.”

Natalia returns with drinks and takes their orders.

“To old friends.” Helena raises her glass.

“To old friends,” Myka and Sam mouth in unison. Sam smiles warmly while Myka eyes him cautiously. Their glasses chink.

Helena and Sam take a big swig while Myka sips demurely, eyes darting between Helena and Sam, thinking she’d better take it slow.

“So what do you do, Helena?” Sam throws back the rest of his vodka and picks up his beer.

"I tend bar at a large hotel just down the road.” Helena ticks her head to the side, indicating the direction of the hotel.

“Ah.” Sam winks. “Bartender. That’s code for, like, 'artist' right? What do you ‘really' do?"

Helena opens her mouth to speak, but Sam raises a finger. “No, let me guess You’re a…writer."

Helena quirks a brow, lips curving humbly. “I tend bar and work for a contractor part time. Renovations mostly. Demolition, drywall…those sorts of activities.”

“Oh. Right.” Sam stares at Helena, mouth hanging open slightly. “Didn't Bunn— I mean, _Myka_ , say you had a daughter?"

Helena smiles brightly. “Yes. She’s eight. The light of my life, though Myka runs a close second.” She beams affectionately at Myka and runs the hand resting on Myka's chair lightly up and down Myka’s arm.

Myka cocks her head and flashes Helena a warm grin.

“Huh,” Sam mouths, tone sour, eyes darting between the Myka and Helena.

“What?” Myna’s face pinches as she shoots Sam a glare.

“I always imaged you’d hook up with some handsome brooding artist dude. Like the guys that’d float through the museum where you worked. A little scattered, covered in paint, always forgetting what day it is...you’d be running around cleaning up after them." Sam smirks.

Myka glowers. “Wow. That’s really imaginative. Such a stereotype.”

“Just sayin’.” Sam shrugs.

Helena jerks upright and slips her phone from of her pocket. She eyes the screen, then mouths “I have to take this.” Rising from her chair, she lifts the phone to her ear and moves hastily towards the door.

Myka’s gaze follows Helena until she exits. Her eyes narrow as her head swings back toward Sam. “Sam, that was rude."

Sam flinches and grimaces in apology. “Sorry, it kind of slipped out. I’m just…I’m not used to seeing you with someone else, I guess.” He reaches out to place a hand on top of Myka’s.

Myka pulls her arm back, eyes flicking from Sam’s hand to his face. “Three years, Sam. Three. Years."

“I know, I know. What can I say…you left me. I never stopped loving you."

Myka rolls her eyes and blows out her cheeks. “Not this again.”

Sam side-eyes the door then leans forward, lowering his voice. “And, I mean, not the be judgmental or anything...she’s _really_ hot and all, but a bartender that’s an actual bartender?”

He leans back in his chair. "I guess the whole construction thing is kinda butch or something, right? But I just thought you’d be...I mean the way you left? You seemed really invested in the art thing. I’m a little surprised."

“Surprised at what?” Myka's nostrils flare. "I _am_ invested in the art thing. You saw my show. And I work at a gallery. An important one. Why does the person I’m dating have to be on the same path?”

Sam waves his hands. “No, you’re right, Myka. You’re right. Your show looked great. Really great. I’m really happy that you’re doing so well."

“But...”

“But a kid? When we talked about kids you’d just clam up— "

“Christina’s an amazing kid, Sam. And it’s different when you’re asking someone to be pregnant and everything."

Myka crosses her arms and looks away, completely disgruntled. She startles as she sees Helena calmly standing at the end of the table. She wonders how much Helena has heard.

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but I must go.”

Myka throws Helena a pleading gaze. “No. Really? Sam will apologize for being a jerk. Sam—“ She smacks a hand on the table.

“Sorry.” Sam's brows angle in, his voice genuinely apologetic.

The food arrives that very minute. Helena pulls the server aside and asks to get hers to go. The server nods.

“Helena?” Myka lifts a hand and grips Helena’s forearm tightly.

“Outside.” Helena nods toward the door.

Myka rises and the two exit the restaurant.

“Is everything alright?” Myka gives Helena a once over, thinking she looks totally spooked.

“That was Liam’s father. We’re to meet asap. There may be trouble brewing, but it might only be a rumor. We need to formulate a contingency plan."

“Should I come with you? I can—"

Natalia pokes her head out and hands Helena a bag.

“Thanks.” Helena takes the bag and fishes through her pocket for her wallet.

Myka grabs Helena’s wrist. “Don’t. I’ll take care of it. It's the least I can do after what Sam said.” She nods at Natalia, and Natalia disappears back inside.

“Thank you.” Helena takes a step closer to Myka. “You should stay. He obviously cares for you deeply. I would imagine you made quite an attractive couple."

No, no, _no_ , Myka thinks. This is not the way this evening was supposed to go. She doesn’t want to hear that Helena thinks she’d look good with Sam. Right now she wishes Sam didn’t exist at all.

“But he was rude to you—"

“More like startled, I think. He clearly wasn’t expecting me in any scenario he’d dreamed up.”

Myka slides her arms around Helena’s waist. “His loss.” She leans her forehead on Helena’s. “I don’t want you to go."

Helena casts her eyes down. “Nor do I desire to leave. It seems my destiny to disappoint you, Myka."

“Hey…hey, hey, no, don’t. This is important stuff.” Myka pulls Helena into a hug.

Helena wraps her arms around Myka and dejectedly murmurs into her ear, “Two weeks?"

“It’ll go fast, I promise. And we’ll talk, a lot, ok?” Myka’s heart sinks. Here’s the conversation they were meant to be having tonight, now reduced to all of two sentences.

Myka pulls back and looks Helena in the eye. She slides her hands up from Helena’s waist and wraps her fingers around Helena's upper arms. "Claudia said she’ll give you her iPad. We can FaceTime every day if we want."

She feels Helena tense.

“Or talk. Just talk. Definitely text. We'll stay in touch, though, ok?"

Helena’s eyes glow like those of a frightened child.

Myka squeezes Helena’s arms. “I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to talk about this. And I’m really sorry Sam showed up. But Helena, I’ll be back soon. I promise."

Helena nods in short, slow strokes. “Of course.” She flashes a strained smile and gives Myka peck on the cheek. “I should go. Tell Sam it was lovely to meet—"

Myka pulls Helena close and places an insistent kiss on her lips, hoping the connection shows Helena just how much she means to her.

“I’ll miss you.” She rests her forehead on Helena’s again.

Helena’s muscles slacken, guard dropping ever so slightly. “And I, you.”

She pushes up on her toes and places a soft but fervent kiss on Myka’s lips.

Myka's breath quickens as she feels Helena letting go, giving herself over to the moment, to _her_. She’s tempted to walk off with Helena right now and leave Sam hanging.

Helena combs a hand through Myka’s hair and drags her fingers forward along Myka’s jawline, tracing a thumb across Myka’s bottom lip. She throws Myka a thoughtful smile, eyes glimmering with pure adoration. Reluctantly, she turns and walks away.

Myka’s stomach clenches as she watches Helena disappear around the corner. As unreasonable as it sounds, she has a bad feeling about Helena’s meeting. She retraces the path of Helena’s thumb on her lip with her own, then heads back into the restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Myka _finally_ leaves for her trip. And why was Sam such a jerk, anyway? It might not all be his fault. A little Myka backstory...
> 
>  
> 
> _**NOTE: Just saying this out loud, I know the H.G. in this story is not a common portrayal, but I imagine you get where I’m coming from if you’re still reading. (+Thank you for still reading!) A recent thoughtful conversation with lexacsi prompted me to conceptualize my motivations and I did - I wrote a spiel over there at the end of chapter 7._


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka finally leaves for her trip. And why was Sam such a jerk, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we have lots of Myka thinking, Myka travelling, Myka sorting things through. With a smattering of Helena mixed in, too.

—————————

> _It sounds stupid, but there's nothing like walking down the street and seeing a building that's older than 100 years old. I think London - not to sound pretentious - like New York, it's a big melting pot for all things and it's just got this energy that you can't find anywhere else._  
>  Christian Cooke

\-----------------------

Myka scowls in Sam’s direction as she returns to their table. She remains silent, consciously ignoring Sam's rueful looks by purposefully tucking into her food. Sam eventually apologizes in earnest, several times, and the two fall into a surface level conversation barely rising above work and the weather.

By the end of the meal, Myka feels utterly deflated, feeling the entire evening has gone awry. Helena went out of her way to plan an intimate solo outing and Sam completely ruined it. And while Helena's phone call would have thrown a wrench in the works, if Sam weren’t here she’d be with Helena right now, clued in to whatever new hurdle is being thrown at her.

She eyes Sam harshly, but her glare softens as Sam flashes a gentle smile of truce. He’s been a major pain tonight, she thinks, but admits to herself it’s not entirely unpleasant to see him. She’s actually glad to hear he's doing well. And if the evening were left to play out, perhaps the conversation would have warmed over time. She just wishes he hadn't shown up so spur of the moment, though she can't blame him; she knows in her gut if he’d contacted her earlier she'd have shrugged him off.

She excuses herself as soon as possible and gives Sam a polite hug goodbye. As she briskly walks to the subway, her thoughts shift immediately to her trip. Does she have everything she needs? Better stock up now, before traveling home, as the options in her neighborhood are limited. She wafts through a Korean deli in an anxiety fueled haze and makes a few last-minute purchases.

As she exits the store, her thoughts turns toward Helena and her face forms an unknowing scowl. Will Helena let her know how the meeting went? She didn’t ask Helena to call, but Helena didn’t offer to keep her in the loop, either. She shoots Helena a text before hopping on the train and hopes for the best.

_\- Was your meeting OK?_

She scurries down the stairs, swipes her metro card and walks toward the front of the platform. There’s no cell service in the station, but she checks her phone obsessively anyway.

Five minutes later she boards the train and is hurling through a tunnel under the East River. A few stops later, service returns, and her phone dings.

_\- Don't worry, love_

Her face pinches as she stares at the screen. That’s not an answer, Helena, she thinks. She tries to formulate a reply that will prompt an actual answer, but can’t think of anything concrete. At the next stop, her phone dings again.

_\- Have a safe flight and please text when you arrive. You know I’ll worry_

Myka’s anger shifts to anxiety, thinking she doesn't want to add to Helena’s worries, then morphs into delight, thinking it’s sweet that Helena wants to make sure she’s ok. Helena does care and is going to miss her. She said so out loud. And maybe, just maybe, Helena will step up and do her best communicate with her while she’s gone.

She types a response and hits send at the next station stop.

_\- Thanks! I will. I promise_

She does the math thinking if she arrives at around eight o'clock London time that’s three o'clock in New York. Will Helena be at work? If so, will it be at the hotel or on a construction job? What is Helena’s schedule these days? Her mood sours as she adds this wildcard to the pile. Her own schedule will be hectic, even on a good day. Staying in touch is definitely going to be harder than she thought.

Upon arrival home, she double checks her car service reservation, then gives her luggage a once over. Satisfied she’s as ready as she can be, she hops in the shower, then climbs into bed.

Sleep eludes her as her mind attempts to rationalize the evening's events. Sam was overly rude for sure, but Helena was right; he wouldn’t have been expecting to find her with someone like Helena. She admits a fraction of his indignation was warranted, and it’s partially her fault. When they split, she explicitly stated she wanted a partner who shared her same ambitions and she wasn't interested in the prospect of kids or marriage. Sam argued if she came with him to Iowa she’d still be able to follow her dreams and other commitments could be pushed “down the road.” But she was young, barely twenty-five, and having none of it. Truth be told, neither party handled parting well.

She compares her feelings for Helena to the ones she had for Sam and wonders if she was ever really in love with him, or just convinced herself she was. Chicago was a rush when she first arrived; her job was overwhelming, the city, fast-paced, and meeting Sam grounded her, helped her acclimate. Did that momentum push her to stay with him longer than she should? Probably. In the beginning it felt like all the pieces were coming together: “major city” and “full-time job” were checked off her list and now "serious relationship” could be, too. And things were good at first, really good, but over time she began to chafe, disliking her identity as half of a couple, realizing she hadn’t taken the time to find her herself as her own entity within the city. As her feelings for Sam waned, she began questioning everything around her.

It was obvious Sam loved her but when she asked him why his answers always seemed superficial, never deep enough to satisfy. Little by little she began to buy into the age-old adage that learning to compromise was the key to a healthy relationship. So she compromised and slowly slid into complacency. Convinced stability and comfort were enough to sustain her; she glided along on autopilot until the prospect of moving to Iowa pushed her over the edge. By then she'd choked back her ambitions as far as they would go and at the very end, months of passive-aggressiveness rushed out as a bitter rant.

She shifts slightly in bed then turns restlessly to her side. Closing her eyes tightly, she wills her mind to stop churning but finds it won’t obey.

Had she left Sam sooner, she thinks, she might have found the courage to move to New York earlier, and possibly met Helena before Giselle. She wonders what Helena was like before Giselle and how much their dynamic changed the way Helena views relationships. How exactly would she have met Helena? She’s not sure, but she’s pretty sure she would have, considering the serendipity of their current status. Actually, serendipity isn't the right word, considering they met because her entire life went up in flames. But some kind of cosmic force must have been at play, she’s sure of it. The universe works in mysterious ways.

She pushes her thoughts away from the tragedy toward Helena; the Helena she knows right now. She's certain her feelings for Helena are stronger than anything she felt for Sam but wonders, is she in love with Helena? If so, what does that mean? And could Helena be in love with her? She anxiously mulls over possible answers but realizes hypothesizing is pointless. She really needs to go to sleep.

She rolls onto her back and her eyes pop open. Her eyes glass over as she stares at the ceiling, unable to focus on its barely visible surface. Her hand wanders thoughtlessly under her shirt and across her abdomen, innocently rousing the memory of Helena's hand performing the very same action a few days prior. She latches onto that thought as her eyes flutter closed.

Losing herself in the thought of Helena lying next to her, she rakes her hand down, allowing her fingers to dive beneath the waistband of her pajama pants. She imagines Helena's fingers skillfully skipping across bare flesh; her soft, sinewy brawn pressed tightly against her, nose nuzzling into the crook her neck; Helena’s lips lifting, brushing the tender underside of her chin; hot, steamy breath coursing over sensitized skin. A self-satisfied grin sprawls across her face as she takes matters into her own hands. Anxious thoughts dwindle as a groan builds in her gut, edging up through her throat, coursing over her lips, escaping as an immodestly satiated cry. She tenses, then slackens, limply sinking into the sheets. As her heart slows, sleep finally takes over.

What seems like minutes later, her alarm rings. She rises, packs, and meets the car outside. Her bag is checked, ticket issued and security tackled all in one fell swoop. She locates her gate and boards the plane in a timely fashion and as the flight attendants give the seatbelt instructions, she nods off.

Six or so hours later she’s speeding through the night in a cab; her destination, central London, a hotel near the Tate Modern. Check in is a breeze, and she falls face first onto the bed immediately upon entering. She gives her mind a moment to catch up with her body, then texts Helena.

After several minutes with no reply, she freshens up and makes her way to the hotel restaurant. She’s absolutely starving.

When she returns to her room, she feels wired and decides to shower before bed. She checks her phone, unpacks her bag, then checks again. No message from Helena. Maybe she's working for Liam’s father today, she thinks, and can’t reply just yet. She yawns unintentionally and decides it’s time to turn in. Helena’s lack of communication worries her, but she drifts off sooner rather than later.

Immediately upon waking, she checks her phone. Her body sinks into the sheets as she notes Helena’s message.

_\- Excellent. Sleep well, love. Don't work too hard_

Her eyes close tightly, and she smiles. So far, so good, she thinks.

Ignoring her jet lag as much as she can, she hauls herself out of bed and prepares for the day. After a light breakfast, she explores the neighborhood hoping to find decent coffee nearby, but her quest proves fruitless. She hops in a cab, deciding next time she’ll ask at the front desk for advice.

She arrives at her destination fifteen minutes later, and is given the tour of the gallery by the manager. Lunch is eaten with the staff, and light conversation is had about her trip and New York. Promptly at two o'clock the owner, an immaculately dressed woman in her fifties, materializes as if out of thin air for their meeting. She efficiently discusses the philosophy of the gallery and her reasoning behind potentially partnering with Vanessa’s enterprise. The woman doesn’t smile once, which makes Myka uncomfortable, but over she time finds herself mesmerized by the intensity of the woman’s words. Her integrity is inspiring.

Irene Frederic is well known by everyone, everywhere, as a tastemaker of the highest caliber. She’s also a risk taker, always the first to embrace new and unusual ideas. She’s both revered and feared in the art world, and there a sense of magic surrounding the artists she champions. Myka’s intrigued that she’s interested in partnering with Vanessa, and thrilled to be part of the process.

Myka attends an after work dinner with some of the gallery staff and arrives back at the hotel fairly late. Late for London, she thinks, but not for New York, though honestly she’s beat, and the thought of talking to anyone right now makes her feel dizzy. She assumes Helena’s working today, but decides maybe tomorrow, Friday, she’ll be able to catch Helena before her evening shift. She shoots Helena a text, saying she’d like to try to talk tomorrow, and will she be home during the day? Helena replies immediately, stating that would be lovely, and it should work; she’ll be home until she picks up Christina from school. Myka says she’ll call around one. Helena says perfect.

Friday is a whirl, more meetings, and traveling, both to storage units and artists studios. She has dinner plans with a few of Vanessa’s clients but stops by the hotel first to freshen up. First thing in the door she calls Helena’s iPad but gets no answer. She tries Helena’s cell phone but is sent directly to voicemail. She then texts, thinking that’s the tried and true formula to reach Helena. She then waits.

After an hour with no response, she really has to go. She's confused as to why Helena said she’d be home but isn’t and attempts to shake it off, rationalizing that maybe Helena had to work, or something came up. Maybe she had to pick up Christina early, or she's out and about and her cellphone battery died. What if there was a sudden emergency? A mild panic rises in her chest as she eyes the clock and sees she’s already running late. She tells herself to calm down and reminds herself that Helena’s life can be unpredictable. She’s sure everything is fine.

Dinner is pleasant, business first but more casual as the evening plays out. Her company describes the ins and outs London art scene and gives recommendations of things to see and do. Upon parting she doesn't call a cab right away, choosing instead to walk around the neighborhood, get to know the city better. So far she finds London’s energy similar to New York's, but the architecture and street grid are entirely different. She hopes to spend more here someday.

Wandering down a side street, her thoughts turn to Helena. A pre-Christina, pre-Claudia, pre-America Helena, nose to the grindstone, living on her own, milling about town. As if summoned on cue, a ding sounds, and she's pulled into the present. She digs through her purse and lets out a weighted sigh as she views her phone.

_\- Terribly sorry. Circumstances beyond my control. Try again tomorrow?_

She grimaces, typing while shuffling aimlessly in a direction.

_\- Maybe? What time? I’m flying to Milan_

A small park catches her eye, and she ambles in.

_\- Sunday?_

Her future itinerary isn’t planned as of yet, but she’s not going to say that out loud.

_\- Definitely Sunday_

She plops down on a bench and stares at the screen, patiently waiting for further communication. When none arrives, she initiates a conversation.

_\- I’m sitting in Soho Square Park. Do you know it?_

She squints at a sign by the entrance to make sure that's right.

_\- Be careful alone at night, love. London can be quite rough, even in the city center_

Her nerves jump. Her eyes flick up and she scans the area while she types.

_\- I will. When were you here last?_

Her site lines seem clear plus there’s light foot traffic, so she decides the park is ok. Her attention lingers on a pointy medieval-y building situated in the center of the park, surrounded by flowers and tall trees. She wonders if it’s really old or just made to look that way.

_\- 10 years ago or so?_

Helena was in her early twenties, she muses.

_\- I’d love to hear about your time here. This city seems fascinating_

She grins while wondering what Helena got up to back then.

_\- Of course. But later. Must run, picking up C. After school art class_

Her grin fades.

_\- Ok_

Noting the time, she decides that makes sense, but wonders where Helena was when she called earlier. Feeling frustrated and not ready to let Helena go so soon, she blurts out an impulsive but intimate goodbye.

_\- Missing you already_

She hits send with a lump in her throat.

_\- And I, you_

The reply is instant. Her lungs deflate, breath escaping heavily.

_\- Do let me know when you arrive in Milan. I’ll worry_

Her lips quirk up.

_\- I will_

_\- Have a lovely evening in London_

_\- Thanks!_

Mood boosted by her short back-and-forth, she decides to walk to her hotel, taking a route past Trafalgar Square and across the Golden Jubilee Bridge. She slows as she walks then leans on the railing, taking in the enormity of the London Eye across the Thames. Westminster Palace and Big Ben glow in the distance and she thinks to herself what beautiful view. Her eyes begin to droop the longer she stays static, and while she’d like to get to know London better, she decides she should probably rest up before her flight. She checks the map and pushes off, following the river path to her destination. What a lovely evening, indeed.

\---------------

The flight to Milan is short, less than two hours, but her day is eaten away by travel and the usual airport rigamarole. Upon arrival, she's whisked off to her hotel in a cab. She texts Helena as promised and thankfully, Helena texts back promptly. After settling in, she calls a car and speeds off to meet Vanessa's silent business partner for a late dinner.

Theadora Stanton is a soft-spoken American, who relocated permanently to Italy after her husband died. She’s provided the capital to support Vanessa’s business for years and co-runs a small gallery space with Vanessa in Milan. As of late, Theodora refuses to leave Italy, providing the catalyst for Myka's role as middleman in their partnership venture with Irene.

Myka finds Theodora eccentric but down to earth and their meeting goes well. Before parting, Theodora suggests Myka spend tomorrow sightseeing, stating they’ll meet Monday to discuss official gallery business. Genuinely relieved to have a break, she jokes with herself that she’ll have to remember how to relax.

Sunday proves to be the first leisurely day she’s had in a very long time. She sleeps in late and eats a light breakfast at a nearby cafe. Rambling around town, she stops by a few sites of interest but doesn’t overfill her itinerary. By mid-afternoon, she finds herself lounging on a bench in a park sipping a latte by a pond. As she stares absently towards the water, a little girl with curly black hair appears in her view, gesticulating excitedly to her mother while pointing at a family of ducks floating nearby. The girl reminds her of Christina, and she suddenly wishes Christina and Helena were here with her, enjoying the city. She sighs wistfully, thinking while the prospect seems impossible right now, down the road it’d be nice to travel together.

Her sense of calm fades as her thoughts drift to Helena. She checks the time but decides it’s still too early to call. Helena’s work schedule must be erratic these days, she thinks, and she’s not sure if Helena worked late Saturday night. She makes a mental note to ask for details when they talk.

She takes her time wandering back to the hotel and snaps pictures along the way to share with Helena and Christina. Though she’s not sure why, she feels in her gut this phone call is going to happen today.

Around noon New York time, she dials Claudia’s iPad from her laptop. It rings twice, and Christina pops up on the screen.

“Hi, Myka!” Christina shouts. Her image bobs on the screen as she holds the iPad straight out in front of her.

“Hey, Christina.” Myka’s skin twinges with excitement. She’s actually gotten through.

“Mom said you’d call when she was in the shower."

“She did?” Myka smiles wildly, elated that Helena remembered she was going to call at all.

“Yeah. She said you’re far away.” Christina’s arms buckle, and she lowers the iPad.

“I’m in Italy. Do you know where that is?”

Christina’s image bounces as she walks across the room. Myka feels a little dizzy.

“Do they have lots of pizza there?” Christina halts in the living room.

“They do. But it’s different than New York.” Myka hears the sound of water in the background.

“Can I show you my drawing of Dewy?” Christina lifts the iPad at arms length and flashes a toothy smile.

“Sure!"

The device drops and Christina disappears, leaving Myka with a perfect view of the ceiling.

A few moments later, Helena peers down, toweling her hair dry, wearing a white tank top.

“Hello, weary traveler,” she mouths tunefully.

Myka's heart skips a beat at the sight of Helena. Her smile fills the screen. “Hi!”

Christina returns and thrusts her drawing in front of the iPad.

“See!"

Myka sees an enlarged portion of paper with some scribbly lines on it. It moves around drunkenly.

“That’s great, honey."

Helena’s hand appears in the frame and Christina’s drawing recedes. “Let’s settle on the couch, shall we?"

Myka hears shuffling as Helena props up the iPad and angles it towards the couch. Christina hops up next to Helena. The pair beam eagerly at the screen.

"Tell us all about your trip."

Myka expounds upon her journey and at some point aims her laptop out the window, inviting New York to enjoy her view of Milan. She remembers to ask Helena about work and learns while she has no regular schedule, she's been working more for Liam’s father and less at the hotel.

After an hour of back and forth Helena announces she should make lunch for Christina and that Myka should get some dinner. Milan isn’t New York, she warns, and shops, if open, will most likely close early on a Sunday. Myka admits Helena’s right but doesn’t want to hang up just yet.

“Maybe we can all do this sometime."

Helena’s brow lowers. “Do what?"

“Take a trip. Maybe not to Milan, but somewhere. The three of us.” Myka flashes a warm grin.

“Really?” Helena’s tone rises at the end.

“Really.” Myka mouths assuredly.

Helena’s eyes shine. “That would be lovely."

“Let's talk again before the end of the week, ok?”

“Alright.”

"I leave for Basel Wednesday. I’ll be there until Monday."

“Let me know when—"

“I arrive in Basel. I know the drill."

Helena yells across the room. “Come say goodbye to Myka, Christina."

Myka hears Christina stomp back into the room.

“Bye Myka!” Christina holds Dewy tightly and waves his paw at Myka. “Dewy says bye, too. He misses you."

“I miss him, too.”

Helena crouches into the frame and Myka's eyes meet hers. “And you.”

Helena flashes a brilliant smile, brimming with affection. Her finger reaches toward the screen and she ends the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: Further adventures of Myka in Europe and her quest to stay in touch with Helena.
> 
> Oh also, I might as well say, I made a little thing fan art [thing](http://beatricethecat2.tumblr.com/post/133689692764/so-i-got-a-little-excited-about-the-fact-that-the) for #2D2PP over on Tumblr.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Myka at Basel and finally back in New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest I was going to flash past Myka’s time in Basel, but realized, for later plot points, I should show just how deeply she’s becoming embedded in her job. This chapter is on the shorter side and serves as a conduit to get Myka back to New York. It’s not terribly exciting, but leans towards upcoming confrontations and reveals. I humbly ask that you please stick with me here, as some twisty-turns are coming your way shortly.

————————

> _New York City is a great apartment hotel in which everyone lives and no one is at home._  
>  -Glenway Wescott

\------------------

Milan proves less hectic than London for Myka, but the six hour time difference, coupled with Helena and Christina's day to day commitments, continue to prove roadblocks in her quest to connect. Taking Abigail’s advice to heart, she consistently lets Helena know she’s there, but not overly so, and tries her best not to be discouraged if Helena doesn’t respond right away. She regularly sends pictures to Claudia's iPad though it’s Christina who responds, usually after school. The overall effect leaves Myka feeling connected enough to say they’re all connected. And for that, she’s glad.

She arrives in Basel mid-morning Wednesday and hits the ground running as the pre-opening gala only one day away. A team of art handlers has been assigned to help her install, and she spends most of her day cataloging items unpacked from various crates. The crew works late into the evening and decides to pack it in around nine, vowing to start fresh in the morning.

Myka sinks tiredly into her seat during the short cab ride to the hotel, realizing she hasn’t stopped moving since she stepped off the plane. As the city flies by, she thinks while technically she’s in Switzerland, she could really be anywhere, driving purposefully to lofty destinations for pertinent reasons. She closes her eyes, thinking wherever it is she ends up tonight; she hopes she can lie down.

As she enters the hotel, a few faces lounging in the lobby stand out as important ones. She's exhausted but knows it’d be prudent to introduce herself before turning in, as from now until Sunday her identity is inextricably linked with Vanessa Calder’s best interests. She’s no longer her own person; she’s a part of the team.

After checking in, she moves to the side and squints at the patrons across the room, attempting to recall their names before approaching. She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath, reaching far into her gut to rally the energy to initiate intelligent small talk after her incredibly long day. Channel Helena, she tells herself; think...what would Helena do? She sighs, wistfully wishing Helena were here to coach her, then makes her way across the floor.

\---------

Thursday, lunchtime, Myka finds herself sitting at a plastic fold out table, eating and chatting with other gallerists. As they discuss various concurrent events scheduled with the fair, she abruptly understands not only will her days be spent manning the booth, but evenings filled with happenings around town. In a moment of pique, she excuses herself from the table and places an impromptu call to Helena, feeling if she doesn’t call her now she won’t be able to until Sunday, and Sunday is simply too far away. As the phone rings, she paces back and forth while crossing her fingers behind her back, hoping to catch Helena before she takes Christina to school.

When Helena picks up, Myka does a little hop, then looks around nervously, hoping no one saw her. She's elated to hear Helena's voice, and Helena seems happy to hear hers as well. They stay on the line for as long possible, five minutes tops, before Helena admits she really has to go. She suggests Myka call on Sunday when they can talk properly like last week. Myka eagerly agrees.

Over the next few days, Myka’s feet barely touch the ground, cycling through hotel, fair, hotel, dinners, parties, hotel, events. Her booth is very busy, partially due to the art on view but partially due to her presence. As a new face on the scene, everyone wants get to know her, and honestly she finds it all a little overwhelming. Everyone she’s met has offered nothing but praise for Vanessa, and she feels a swell of pride to play a part in the gallery’s proceedings.

Amanda lands in Basel on Friday and wafts in and out of Myka’s affairs, offering gossip on various gallerists, enlightening her to the best parties in town. Myka’s never seen Amanda in this scenario before, and notes how hard she works her angles, sitting back, surveying the crowd, placing herself in the right place at the right time. She laughs to herself as she watches Amanda morph from larger-than-life personality into earnest, no-nonsense artist depending on the company she’s keeping. Exhausting work, she thinks, but also smart. While it's not the way she'd choose to move her career forward, she can respect Amanda for putting herself out there, making herself known.

\------------

Sunday evening, Myka has a one last dinner event to attend before she can call it a night. After the fair ends, she freshens up at the hotel and takes a moment to clear her head before calling Helena.

The line rings four times.

"Hello!" Helena mouths with zeal, iPad in hand. She plunks heavily onto the couch.

"Hi!” Myka’s entire face lights up at the sight of Helena on her screen. She notes Helena’s hair is tied up in a tight ponytail and blue windows fill the background of the screen. “Hey, are you at Claudia's?"

"Yes, we are. They've just popped out for brunch supplies.” Helena’s tired, heavy eyes brighten the longer she holds Myka's gaze. "How are you faring at the fair, love?”

“It's been great, but I’m glad it’s over. I’m reeeally tired." Myka notes Helena’s locket hangs around her neck.

"Tell me about your week.” Helena props the iPad on a pillow and reclines into the corner of the couch.

Myka takes her time as she describes her experiences at the fair and the events she's attended over the past few days. As she reaches Friday afternoon, Claudia and Christina burst into the room.

"We're baaaack!” Claudia booms from a distance.

Helena smiles as she looks to a point beyond the screen. "Come say hello to Myka, Christina."

Christina shuffles across the room, popping into Myka’s view briefly as she jumps on Helena's lap. “Hi, Myka!"

“Oof!” Helena grunts. She adjusts so Christina can see Myka.

“Hey Christina! What are you making for brunch?"

Christina beams at Myka, clearly excited about breakfast. “We’re making this thing I saw on tv yesterday with eggs and cheese and bacon. Aunt Claudia took me to store that only had cheese and we tried a bunch of different ones and she got the one that I liked best. You mix everything up and put it in little cups in the oven and—"

“Baked eggs,” Helena cuts in dryly.

Christina turns and climbs Helena’s torso to sit up. Helena slips her arms around Christina’s middle and places her chin on top of Christina’s head, moving into Myka’s view.

Myka grins warmly. "I wish I was there to eat some. I bet they’ll be yummy.”

“Yeah! I’m hungry. I’m gonna help Aunt Claudia.” Christina squirms off of Helena's lap and out of the frame.

Claudia barks from beyond the screen. "Did you tell her yet?”

Helena looks in the direction of the voice.

"Tell me what?”

Helena's face falls flat as her eyes swing back to Myka. She opens her mouth to speak, but Myka holds out a finger, indicating for Helena hang on.

Myka lifts her phone off the table. She notes the caller and answers.

Her eyes sadden while listening. “Ok. I’ll be down in a sec."

She sets the phone down. "I’m so sorry Helena, but I have to go. Amanda’s downstairs with the car. They're here early."

Helena's face sours. “Amanda?"

“Yeah. She’s here. For the fair. I told you, right?”

Helena grimaces.

"Oh. Maybe I didn’t. I thought I did. I’ve been so busy; it must have slipped my mind.” Myka's brows angle in, her tone as apologetic as possible.

Helena's grimace fades as her eyes warm. "Perhaps it slipped _my_ mind."

“I swear it's been a whirlwind since the moment I stepped foot in Basel. I'm sorry."

“Don’t be sorry. I'd imagine it's nice to have a friend with you amidst all the chaos.”

Myka knows Helena's doing her best to sound upbeat but her voice holds an undertone of distaste. She decides to change the subject. “So what did Claudia want you to tell me?

Helena throws her eyes toward Claudia and mumbles, “Nothing urgent."

Helena's body language says she’s avoiding something, but Myka knows she needs to let it go for now. “Ok. Maybe we can talk again before I head back on Wednesday. I'll text you.”

Helena’s gaze moves back to the screen. As her eyes meet Myka’s, her lips lift up at the ends. "Alright. Have a lovely evening.” Helena lifts off the couch slightly and twists her shoulders to lean over the back, looking across the room. “Say goodbye to Myka, Christina."

“Bye, Myka!” Christina shouts from a distance.

“Bye, Christina!” Myka mouths into the screen.

As Helena swings back toward Myka, Myka notes Helena’s white t-shirt is soiled at the bottom; faint brown marks criss-cross laterally as if she’s been working somewhere dusty.

“Your shirt’s dirty.” Myka angles her eyes down, in the direction of Helena’s stomach.

Helena looks down at her shirt and juts out a lip. “I hadn't noticed."

“You sure you’re ok?"

“We're fine.” Helena nods in short purposeful strokes.

Myka’s stares worriedly at Helena, mulling over the idea of prodding further right now. Before she makes a decision, her phone rings.

"You should get going, love."

Helena's tone has a finality to it that says Myka's getting no more information out of her today. She blurts out the first thing she can think of so as not to end on a sour note.

"I'm sad to miss brunch."

Helena’s shoulders relax, and her eyes turn wistful. “Your presence will be greatly missed by all."

Myka's phone rings again.

"Have a lovely evening, Myka."

Helena reaches out and ends the call.

Myka sighs.

\-------------------------

Myka's next few days are harrowing to say the least. She oversees the deinstall at the fair on Monday, then catches a late night flight back to London. Tuesday is spent settling affairs for the partnership with Irene Frederic's gallery and she leaves early Wednesday morning for New York.

She hasn't had a chance to talk with Helena since Sunday, but they've texted on and off. When she arrives at her apartment she immediately calls Helena, but the line goes straight to voicemail and she leaves a message. She eyes the bed longingly but musters all the energy she has left to pop into the shower. Feeling clean, but not necessarily refreshed, she flops onto to bed, thinking while her body is now motionless, her head thinks she's still in transit. She reaches a long arm across the bed and plucks her phone off the end table.

She smiles as she eyes the screen. Helena’s texted back.

_\- Welcome home, love. Thrilled you're back safely. Rest up._

Not the overenthusiastic homecoming she was wishing for, but not out of character for Helena, either. She contemplates pressing for details, such as, is she at work? If so where? When will she be off? Should she come over now? She begins to rise but decides there’s no way she's leaving the bed until she absolutely has to, meaning tomorrow afternoon for work.

She texts back the first thing that comes to mind.

_\- Looking forward to seeing you! I missed you so much. So tired. Passing out now._

Helena texts back a less than symbol and a three.

Myka's lips curl up as her eyes flutter closed.

\---------

Myka heads into the city a little early on Thursday afternoon, having decided to stop by the hotel before her meeting, on the off chance Helena is working. If she’s not there, she'll catch up with her later, but she thinks it should be fun to surprise her. Plus she’s dying to see her.

Sauntering confidently up to the bar, she finds Helena isn't present but flags down a co-worker, who in turn tracks Helena down. She settles on a barstool and he hands her a glass of water.

The longer she waits, the more anxious she becomes. What if Helena’s not happy to see her? Or angry she didn’t text first? She's so jet lagged and out of it she didn’t really think this through.

She stares off to space and jumps as she feels a hand palm her shoulder.

The hand jerks away.

Myka turns on her seat.

Helena smirks apologetically. “I didn’t mean to startle you. You seemed lost in thought."

"Oh, I was, I just, um...hi.” Myka flashes a lopsided grin. She slips off the stool and lands awkwardly on the floor in front of Helena.

"Hello.” Helena lays a hand on Myka’s upper arm to stabilize her.

Myka stares transfixed. She’d forgotten what a presence Helena is in person.

“You’ve escaped the confines of the tiny screen, I see.” Helena runs her hand lightly up and down Myka’s arm as if to comfort her.

“Uh-huh,” Myka feels a little star struck staring into Helena’s dark, beautiful eyes.

“And to what do I owe this impromptu visit?” Helena takes hold of Myka’s hand and brings it up to her lips. She keeps her eyes on Myka while placing a kiss on the back of Myka’s hand.

Myka’s pulse rises. “I-I just wanted to see you, and I had some time before my meeting."

“H.G.!” a voice shouts from behind the bar. “The distributor’s on the phone."

“One moment,” Helena shouts in the direction of the voice. She takes both of Myka’s hands in hers and steps closer. “I’m sorry, but I must take this. We’re in a bit of a pickle; Walter’s left this place falling apart in my absence."

Myka shakes her head and squeezes Helena’s hands. She leans closer to Helena. "I thought we could get dinner after work tonight. Maybe eat in?"

Helena pushes up on her toes and places a soft, lingering kiss on Myka’s lips. As she pulls back, she holds Myka’s gaze and tenderly combs her fingers through Myka’s loose curls, trailing them down and tugging on an end before letting go.

“Sunday. Barbecue. Claudia’s. I know it’s a stretch, but we can have a proper visit then, alright?"

Myka opens her mouth to speak, but Helena places her hand over it.

“Please?"

There’s a weight in the word Myka can’t quite place and a desperation in Helena’s eyes she can’t refuse. She shakes her head yes.

Helena slides her hand across Myka’s cheek and cups her jaw, then presses their bodies together while guiding Myka's lips into a searing kiss.

“It’s really lovely to see you, Myka. Rest up. I’ll be touch soon.” Helena hurries off into the back room.

Myka watches Helena leave, thinking Helena’s confidence must be a cover for some sort of underlying unrest. Something's definitely amiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: BBQ at Claudia’s! And other stuff I’m not ready to disclose just yet.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***BBQ at Claudia’s!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today’s quote pretty much sums up the next few chapters rather neatly (or perhaps, one could argue, the entirety of this Helena.) Right now the “who says what, when, and why” is dragging me in circles, as the way this all unfolds is rather complex. But I’m working on it. A refresher for this chapter would be [ch4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3807205/chapters/8948782) of g/s if you're a little confused by certain details I won't name here.
> 
> PS: Sorry I posted the wrong chapter the first time around...

—————————

> _New York remains what it has always been: a city of ebb and flow, a city of constant shifts of population and economics, a city of virtually no rest. It is harsh, dirty, and dangerous, it is whimsical and fanciful, it is beautiful and soaring - it is not one or another of these things but all of them, all at once, and to fail to accept this paradox is to deny the reality of city existence._  
>  \--Paul Goldberger

\----------------

Friday and Saturday fly by faster than Myka’s willing to admit due to work and lingering jet lag. She’s texted with Helena briefly, mostly morning and evening salutations and thinks to call Abigail to ask for her advice but decides to be patient and wait, hoping on Sunday she’ll learn the cause of Helena’s aloofness.

Saturday afternoon, Helena texts stating she’s looking forward to seeing Myka tomorrow, and would she be able to come around one? Myka answers yes and Helena asks her to please bring a beverage. Myka replies ok then sighs and hopes for the best.

At one on the dot, Myka arrives at Claudia’s building, toting a four pack of organic fizzy lemonade. The doorman rings Claudia’s apartment, and she takes the elevator up to sixteen. Helena greets her at the door with an enthusiastic kiss on the lips.

“Thank you for coming.” Helena's smile is blinding. She plucks the bag of lemonades from Myka’s hand.

“Hi.” Myka’s apprehension fades as she stares, starry-eyed at Helena.

"Come in! I do hope you're hungry. Claudia bought a plethora of grilling options.” Helena narrows her eyes in Claudia’s direction.

"Hey, how many times a year do we do this? Once? Twice?” Claudia saunters over and greets Myka with a hug and slap on the arm. "I'm reeeally glad you're back. You need to take miss antsy pants off my hands. She's driving me nuts." She throws Helena a humorous scowl.

Helena’s face pinches in response.

"Myka!" Christina bounds across the room and crashes into Myka, hugging her leg.

“Hi, honey!” Myka smiles warmly and thinks she can almost feel Christina’s excitement transferring through her pant leg.

"Come and see my room!” Christina grabs Myka’s hand and gives it a tug.

“Ok.” Myka’s brows meet as she glances at Helena.

Helena nods once and flicks her head toward the balcony. “I’ll just tend to the grill."

Christina drags Myka through the kitchen and into a short hallway. She drops Myka’s hand and opens the door to her room.

Myka jumps back as a black flash darts out.

"Aunt Claudia!" Christina yells.

"On it!" Claudia sprints across the apartment and slams the balcony door closed.

Christina pulls Myka into her room.

"See!” Christina plops on her bed and bounces lightly.

Myka looks around. Though she's been to Claudia's apartment before, she's never entered Christina's room.

Christina grabs her stuffed horse and gives it a squeeze. "I made some new drawings at school.” She points to a group of papers hanging from the wall.

“Those are nice!” Myka exclaims while eyeing the drawings. Her gaze bobs around the room and she notes many books, drawings, toys, and posters that seem to be duplicates of those in Helena’s apartment. Christina’s bedspread looks exactly the same, as does the boombox in the corner.

Claudia pops in her head in. “Be careful when you leave so he doesn’t get out again.” She hurls Dewy in a graceful arc across the room onto Christina’s bed.

“I will.” Christina pounces on Dewy.

Myka glances at Claudia. “Can I talk to you?"

“Sure.” Claudia nods.

Myka rises and follows Claudia out. She intentionally pulls the door shut and walks into the kitchen.

Claudia opens the fridge and pulls out two beers. She opens both and holds one out to Myka.

“Why’s Dewy here?” Myka takes a demure sip of her beer.

Claudia eyes Myka with confusion as she takes a swig from her bottle. “Where else would he go?"

“What do you mean?” Myka leans on the counter and examines the label on her beer.

“He goes where Christina goes. That’s a given. Right?” Claudia waves her bottle in the direction of Christina’s room.

Myka takes another sip of beer. “I guess. I didn’t realize he came along sometimes when she stays here overnight."

Claudia’s nose scrunches up. “He doesn’t. Hasn’t. Didn’t. No.” She shakes her head back and forth.

“But he’s here now.” Myka tilts her head in question.

“Yyyeah…” Claudia’s mouth hangs open as her brows raise.

“Why?”

“Because…” Claudia's eyes grow wide as she stares a Myka, mouth falling open. “No way. I can’t believe it."

“Believe what?”

"She didn’t tell you, did she?” Claudia places a hand over her mouth.

“Tell me what?” Myka’s tone rises.

“That scoundrel. I can’t believe— "

“Claudia, tell me what?"

“They moved out."

“What?” Myka’s posture stiffens as her mouth falls open. “Why?"

“Their building was sold on the fly. The new landlord lawyered up was snooping into everyone’s business. The real Mrs. Paddy O’Rourke had to move back in before everything turned into a hot mess."

Myka eyes Helena pointedly through the blue glass windows, a little unsettled by Helena's calm demeanor while tending to the grill.

“Where’s all their stuff?"

“They took Christina's but left everything else. That way the place still looked lived in."

Myka scans the room. “Where does Helena sleep?"

Claudia points the neck of her bottle towards the balcony. “Out there. Like a hobo. On an air mattress.”

“O-outside?” Myka’s face screws into a confused grimace.

Claudia snickers once. “Most days, yeah. She says hates the A/C. And it reminds her of being a kid on the boat or something. Depends on the day. I have a hard time keeping up.” She narrows her eyes toward Helena.

“Huh.” Myka shakes her head in slow strokes back and forth as she stares at Helena.

Claudia throws Myka a firm eye. “OK, look, princess, I need your help. Now that you’re back, distract her. Calm her down. She’s been a crazed lunatic all week, obsessed with finding a new place to live. Tell her she needs stay here for awhile and get her shit together."

Myka flinches and tenses. She’s never seen Claudia this angry. “Ok.”

Claudia’s eyes soften. “Good. I’ll watch the kid; you take her out somewhere nice and spend the night together. Make her so freakin’ high she’ll forget about everything else. You got that?"

“Yeah.” Myka doesn’t like Claudia’s tone, but she tries not to take it personally. She thinks this is Claudia’s weird way of taking care of Helena.

“And soon. I’ll pay for whatever, wherever. Don’t hold back.” Claudia waves a hand with finality.

“Fine."

Christina bounds out of her room and into the kitchen, stopping just short of Claudia. “I’m hungry."

“Here." Claudia set down her beer and hands Christina a banana. She glances directly at Myka, eyes wide. “Go. Talk to her. Skedaddle. "

“Right,” Myka mumbles lowly, thinking she's not sure she can process any of this right now.

Her feet move toward the balcony before she’s formulated what to say. She slides the glass door open, steps out, then slides the door shut. Helena doesn't look up from the grill.

Myka stands staring at Helena, deciding what to do. Why didn't Helena tell her? She must have known this was happening when they talked, but she said nothing. The fact that Helena’s not acknowledging her presence now means Helena knows that she knows. And she's angry, yes; angry that Helena didn’t tell her and angry that Claudia’s anger manifested in her direction. But Helena? Helena must be gutted. So now's not the time for anger, she decides. Stepping sure-footedly across the terrace, she sidles up behind Helena and slides her hands around Helena's waist. She pulls her close, placing her chin on Helena's shoulder.

"Smells amazing. What's for lunch?”

Helena weakly clears her throat. "Claudia bought steak, and there's hot dogs and burgers for later."

"Oh. Nice."

Helena slowly turns a steak and allows the tongs to absently rest on top. Her shoulders slump forward.

"Myka, I should tell you—"

"Claudia filled me in." Myka slips her arms from Helena's waist and takes a step back. She mindfully keeps her tone steady as she speaks. "Why didn't you say something?"

Helena turns to address Myka but avoids eye contact. "You were having such a lovely time. I didn't want to spoil it."

"You must be devastated.” Myka cocks her head and tries to catch Helena’s gaze.

"It was a dilapidated mess that apartment. Took all my effort to keep it going. It’s for the best, really.” Helena looks away and fingers the collar of her shirt.

Myka stills Helena’s hand. "I loved that place, you know. I'll miss the couch. I wish I got to say goodbye."

"I'm sorry.” Helena glances at Myka, glassy-eyed, then drops her head.

"No. Helena. I'm sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” Myka tips Helena’s chin up. “You need to take a moment to grieve. Maybe just stay with Claudia for a little while? It's not so bad, is it? Christina's all set up."

Helena sniffs and glances toward the apartment. “Perhaps."

“I can help you look for places."

“Myka, you have enough on your plate."

"Then at least let me take you out. Help you forget your worries. Claudia said she'd watch Christina. We could finally have that date.” Myka puts on her most convincing smile.

Helena’s lips wobble as they rise. “You always manage to pull my spirits up from the mud, don't you."

“It's my job, and I take my job very seriously.” Myka pulls Helena into a comforting hug and feels Helena begin to let go of her tension.

Claudia shouts from the door. "Steaks! Steaks! That’s Kobe beef there, folks, not to be burnt to a crisp.” She scuffles across the deck.

Helena pulls back and eyes Claudia apologetically.

Myka grimaces.

Claudia narrows her eyes and waves a hand at Helena and Myka. “Shoo. Go canoodle inside. We’ll man the grill." She winks at Christina who trails behind.

"Can I cook the hot dogs?” Christina's face lights up as she jumps up and down.

"Sure, thing kiddo. You're the mini chef."

“Yay!” Christina claps.

Claudia glares pointedly at Myka and Helena. "Go!"

Myka grabs Helena's hand and drags her into the apartment. She drops onto the couch then pops off her shoes and nestles herself in a corner of the sectional.

Helena stands limply while watching Myka settle.

Myka reaches out an arm, beckoning Helena to come closer, throwing her eyes down to Helena's feet.

Helena sits and nimbly removes her shoes. She scoots back into Myka's patiently waiting arms.

Myka's eyes close as she slides her arms around Helena’s waist, pulling her near. She sets her chin on Helena's shoulder and nuzzles her nose into Helena's hair. Helena’s neck bends toward Myka's touch.

"I missed you, you know. I couldn't wait to see you today."

Helena threads her fingers through Myka's and brings Myka's hand up to her lips. She slides the back of Myka's hand across her cheek.

“Do you want to talk about it?'

"Not particularly." Helena drops their intertwined hands onto her lap. She unthreads and rethreads their fingers nervously together, then gives Myka's hand a squeeze.

"I'd much rather..." She twists, and brings her hand up, guiding Myka's lips toward hers. Her body continues turning, and she pins Myka to the couch.

Myka's hands slip around Helena's waist and rake up Helena's back up, tangling in her hair. As their kiss deepens, she slides down until horizontal on the couch, allowing Helena to hover over her. Helena’s hair brushes Myka’s check as she maneuvers her knee between Myka's thighs. Helena smiles slyly s she presses up, and Myka feels dizzy at the surge of arousal she feels, thinking if only Claudia and Christina weren't on the patio, she'd move Helena's hand right where her knee currently sits. A few kisses later and she's lost her ability to think at all.

\-----------------

The mood brightens as the day passes and the group falls into a relaxed routine. Lunch is eaten in the late afternoon, then lawn bowling is played on the patio. Helena and Claudia argue over the physics of ball speed relative to friction caused by the surface of the patio and the number of pins downed per play. They decide to up the ante of the game by creating a miniature golf-esque landscape using buckets of water, a laundry basket, an ironing board, throw rugs, stacks of books, and Dewy's new cat bed. Christina helps at first then joins Myka on the sidelines, sharing banter of the absurdity that is Helena and Claudia, laughing heartily, snapping pictures of the proceedings for posterity.

After the game, leftovers are eaten, and the mess swiftly cleared. By a unanimous vote, it’s decided everyone is tired, and it's time watch a movie.

Claudia claims the very end of the sectional. She pops off her shoes and casually spreads out. Christina tows Myka over to the couch and seats her in the middle. She clambers up and snuggles cozily into Myka's side while Myka wraps a caring arm around her. Helena locates the remote and drops down next to Myka. She rests her head comfortably on Myka's shoulder and flips through movie options.

As the credits roll an hour and a half later, Myka gently rakes her fingers through Christina's curls, who’s head now rests on Myka's lap. Helena lies sleeping on Myka's shoulder, mouth slightly open, snoring lightly, her hand dangling limply on Myka’s thigh. Myka gingerly removes the remote from Helena's grip and turns off the TV.

From across the couch, Claudia half-whispers, “They missed you. A lot."

Myka smiles contentedly. "I missed them, too."

Myka's voice causes Helena to stir. She smacks her lips. “Sorry, I didn't mean to nod off."

Christina shifts, then yawns.

Myka yawns immediately after.

“Perhaps it's bedtime for all girls, large and small.” Helena's eyes twinkle as she flashes Myka a dozy smile.

“I should probably get home. I’m still a bit jet lagged.”

"I can imagine.” Helena twists to run a hand through Christina’s curls. “Say goodnight to Myka, love, then get ready for bed."

“But Mom, Myka just got back. Can’t we watch another movie?"

“It's your last week of school."

“Please..."

“Not today young lady. Perhaps next weekend."

Christina pouts then looks up at Myka. “I missed you, Myka. I had fun today."

Myka grins warmly. “I missed you, too, honey. We did have fun, huh?"

Christina slides off of Myka’s lap and onto the floor. “‘nite"

“Goodnight."

“I’ll tuck her in. You two, make plans.” Claudia slips off of the couch and with a firm eye, wags a finger between the two. "I’m on call, whenevs, just say the word.” She walks off after Christina.

Myka takes Helena’s hand. “How about Wednesday night? We can get a nice dinner, and I’ll get us a room somewhere close. We’ll have a mini staycation."

Helena's lips pinch. "Are you sure?"

"Let me do this for you ok? For us.” Myka squeezes Helena’s hand.

“Alright.” Helena squeezes back.

“Great. Meet me at the gallery after work?"

Helena raises a brow.

“Nothing's getting in the way this time. Nothing. I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Date night!!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Date night!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll admit up front this chapter is a bit of a rollercoaster, but honestly it’s just the beginning of the ride. I tried to make transitions as smooth as possible, more like the Racers than the Jackrabbit if I were to use a Kennywood Park analogy. I won’t say too much at this point, instead I’ll let you read and make your own assumptions.

————————

> _But any town that has Walt Whitman as its bard can hardly be accused of forcing narrowly straight-sided views on its singers. Rectilinear the grid may be, but it twists and turns in our imaginations as much as any winding road._  
>  —Adam Gopnik _The Death and Life of Urban America_

\--------------

Wednesday arrives, and Myka finds she can barely sit still. Her office feels too small, her chair, confining. Along with noting the time far too often, she checks her phone obsessively, worried Helena might call or text to cancel. She feels that tonight will be, if not the beginning of something, the first of something; something overwhelmingly exciting, something she can’t quantify and contain. Six o’clock can’t come soon enough.

Around five-thirty she sequesters herself in the bathroom to freshen up. The restaurant she’s booked isn't overly upscale, but she wants to look her best for the night. She agonized for days over what to wear, and as she stares in the mirror, she hopes she made the right decision. Lifting up on her toes, she twists and checks her back, smoothing down the clean lines of her skirt and blouse combo. Her outfit is a complex gray that will go with most anything, chosen to contrast with a little something she’s planning on changing into later at the hotel. She tidies her hair, which is loosely pinned up, reapplies her lipstick and adds just a touch of eyeliner. Deciding she’s as ready as she’s going to get, she heads back to her office.

She forgoes sitting and instead stands staring aimlessly out her window at the alley behind the gallery. At the sound of a light knock, she turns. Her heart skips a beat at the sight of a strikingly beautiful, unwittingly petite, immaculately dressed woman standing in the door.

“Hello, love,” a familiar voice greets with an affectionate smile.

"Helena?" Myka can't help the question in her tone though she knows it’s her.

“I did think you'd still recognize me.” Helena’s words hold a tinge of playfulness. She enters the room.

Myka steps across the office, eyes scouring Helena’s form as if she’s never seen her before. She lifts a hand and lightly fingers Helena's scarf, and decides it must be silk. Her fingers slide through the fabric as her eyes trace a path down and across the neckline of Helena's spring green dress, hanging for a moment on the generous view offered by its low cut.

She drops her hand and bites her bottom lip, self-consciously flicking her eyes up to meet Helena’s. Her mouth lifts on one side. “You're almost as tall as me.”

Helena twists a foot and throws a glance at her bright orange pumps. “A modest heel, though an earnest effort to compete with your lofty stature.”

Myka moves in for a kiss but hesitates before their lips touch.

Helena leans forward, completing the connection, initiating an eager, rousing kiss. Her hand lifts, tentatively grasping then gripping Myka’s upper arm for balance.

Myka's eyes close as she drinks in the slick, comforting feel of Helena’s lips on hers. She’s never kissed someone wearing lipstick before and finds the sensation curious; like she can taste the color Helena is wearing, and from now on that color, in any form, will forever remind her of Helena.

Myka runs her tongue over her lips as she pulls back. “I didn’t want to mess up your lipstick."

Helena lifts a hand and gently wipes a lipstick smear from the corner of Myka's mouth. “I seem to have no qualms mussing yours.”

Myka smiles and threads a strand of hair behind Helena's ear. “You look amazing, by the way."

Helena casts her eyes down and scuffs her toe on the floor. “Thank you. Claudia offered a dapper suit she’d worn once to a formal event, but as we combed through the vast Narnia of her closet, I stumbled upon this ensemble I’d stashed years ago. Certainly not the latest of fashions, but I thought I might still pull it off."

“A suit sounds nice, but this is stunning, Helena. I’m speechless.” Myka tilts her head and gives Helena’s outfit a once over. The hem drops mid-thigh, and her eyes light up as she ogles Helena's exposed, graceful calves. She flashes a lopsided grin.

Helena gives a smug smile. “Perhaps this serves as payback for the dress you wore that day at the bar."

Myka huffs a short laugh and beams a Helena, mind traveling back to the ‘activities' in the closet. She fingers the end of Helena's scarf and flutters her lashes in Helena’s direction. “Maybe we should skip dinner?"

Helena feigns a gasp and crosses her arms over her chest. She raises a cocksure brow. “Why Ms. Bering, it's my understanding tonight is to be our ‘official’ first date. I’m to be wined and dined, charmed by your titillating conversation and wholeheartedly swept off my feet.”

“Heh,” Myka puffs, weakly. A sheepish grin takes over her face, and she averts her eyes. Suddenly the room feels too hot.

“Myka?” a voice calls from a distance.

“Coming!” Myka quickly skirts around Helena and out into the hall, where she finds a woman in her mid-twenties wearing an off-white caftan-like blouse accompanied by a chunky necklace and oversized black-rimmed glasses.

“Vanessa called. She says she’ll call you back in an hour or so on your cell. She’s still tying up a few loose ends.”

“Oh, ok. Thanks, Katy. We’re going to take off then. I’ll see you tomorrow."

Katy glances at Helena and smiles knowingly. “Have a nice night."

Helena gives a small but graceful smile in return. “Thank you.”

Myka spins toward Helena. “Ready?"

Helena grins. “Always."

Myka snags her bags from her office and joins Helena descending the stairs. As they cross the main floor, Katy calls out from behind.

"Myka, wait!"

Helena and Myka turn simultaneously.

"Sorry, but could you sign these before you go?” Katy waves a stack of papers from the top of the stairs.

"Yeah." Myka grimaces and flashes Helena apologetic eyes.

Helena smirks. "I'll just have a look round in the meantime." Leaning forward, she gently lays a hand on Myka's cheek and places a too-intimate-for-work kiss on Myka's lips.

"Don't leave me waiting long." She gives Myka's cheek a pat and spins on a heel, pushing off across the room.

Myka's gaze follows the sway of Helena's hips as she saunters toward a wall-sized painting on the opposite end of the gallery. She narrows her eyes, thinking something’s different about Helena tonight, something beyond the dress. Helena's confidence in showing off her assets isn’t surprising; it’s the same confidence she wore at Myka's opening in a tie and trousers. And honestly, Helena could command a room wearing only pajamas; she's a commanding presence in any outfit. So it's not the dress.

Katy reaches the main floor and lays the documents on the front desk. Myka takes a quick side glance at Helena. Helena gives a little wave.

Myka shuffles through and signs papers, deciding it’s Helena's demeanor that’s different tonight; she's consciously demanding Myka's attention, taking an active role in the evening. Helena seems fully present. That’s new. And a little thrilling.

“How long have you two been together?”

Myka lifts her pen, startled out of her deep thought. Her eyes flick toward Katy.

“With Helena?”

“Yeah.”

“A few months, I think.” Myka touches the pen to her lips.

“I would have guessed longer." Katy flashes a dopey grin. "There’s a symmetry between you two, this, like, positive energy. I bet your rising signs are uber compatible."

“Um, I’m not sure? But thanks.” Myka doesn’t know Katy that well but decides the overall sentiment is sweet. She gives Katy a half smile and looks down at the papers. “These are ready. Anything else?"

“No, that’s it. Sorry to keep you."

“It’s ok. I'll see you tomorrow."

\---------------

The night is warm, even for June, and the streets shimmer with a sticky sheen, air heavy with humidity. As Helena and Myka walk towards their destination, Helena links her arm through Myka’s and leans into Myka's side. Myka feels buoyant, floating on a mixture of anticipation over where the evening will lead and a deep satisfaction in the perfection of the moment. She knew this was the way things could be all along, knew Helena would open up eventually. And she knows Helena was worth the wait.

The restaurant is located nearby, hidden in the middle of a short block at the end of an alley, the kind of place that has no sign announcing its presence. As they approach, Helena unhooks her arm from Myka’s and swings around, halting Myka in her tracks. She lifts up on her toes and places a tender kiss on Myka’s lips.

Myka’s feels a jolt of arousal travel down her spine. “Are you sure you don’t want just to skip to the room?”

Helena gives a small grin and looks over her shoulder. “Tempting for sure. Let’s go in."

They enter and the host offers them a seat at the bar while their table is readied. Myka hasn’t dined here before but chose this spot from recommendations given to her by her coworkers at the gallery. She takes in the scene, noting the decor is earthy with plenty of dark wood; posters of birds and taxidermy animals hang from walls covered in vintage wallpaper. Staff emerge then disappear behind multiple doorways; the restaurant itself seems cobbled together out of multiple small rooms.

The bartender asks for drink orders, and before Myka can answer, Helena takes him aside, requesting that he make something specific, spelling out the recipe. Myka smiles as she watches Helena in action, heart warming at the gesture. A few moments later they're ushered to an intimate table in a corner of a back room.

Heated looks are exchanged while menus are perused. Once food is ordered, Myka initiates conversation.

"So tell me about this dress.” Her mouth pinches and lifts on one side, eyes issuing a challenge.

Helena huffs a weak laugh. "This thing? It's ancient. Does it seem terribly California to you?” She looks down and fingers the fabric of a strap.

Myka’s gaze combs seductively over Helena's form, head to toe. "Not terribly, no."

Helena puffs out a breath. "It's easily as old as Christina. I'm surprised it still fits."

"Helena you're tiny. You couldn’t have been any thinner back then."

"I've gained a bit of bulk since joining the ranks of day laborers, you know."

Helena flexes an arm. Myka gives Helena's muscle a squeeze and is not surprised to find it's as hard as a rock. Her mind wanders, imaging Helena using those same muscles for a different kind of labor later tonight. She blinks and pulls herself into the present.

“Well, I like it. A lot. The dress."

"Do you prefer me like this?"

Myka recognizes the tiniest hint of vulnerability in Helena’s voice and moves to assuage any fear.

“I liked your outfit for my opening, with the tie and everything. But I like you in a tank top and sweatpants, too. I mean, like you in pretty much anything. And I'm pretty sure I'll like you wearing nothing at all.” She blinks and smiles, a little shocked at herself for letting that last part slip out. She thinks Helena's special cocktail must be responsible for her loose tongue.

"Why Ms. Bering, we’re quite saucy tonight aren’t we?” Helena’s tone regains it's poise.

Myka holds back a blush and pushes forward. "You said titillating conversation, right? So I can check that off my list. Now on to sweeping you off your feet."

"I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Helena reaches across the table and lays her hand on top of Myka’s.

"Well, you are petite, but with all that bulk I might not be able to lift you." Myka raises a sarcastic brow and gives Helena’s hand a squeeze.

Helena pouts playfully.

"I’ll try my best."

“Deal.” Helena slips her hand from Myka’s and leans back in her seat.

Myka sips her drink and says the first thing that pops into her mind. “Do you miss California?"

“It was awfully sunny compared to London."

Myka chuckles lightly and twirls the ice cubes in her glass.

Helena looks off into the distance as if giving the matter sincere thought. “My grandest ideas came to fruition in California, and it bore witness to my greatest joy, Christina. But I’d argue tumultuous times tainted its memory with a layer of melancholy I’ve yet to shake."

Helena’s candid answer sobers the jovial mood. Myka decides to quickly change the topic. “So New York is better?"

Helena leans forward and places an elbow on the table, dropping her chin into her hand. She flutters her lashes and gazes at Myka adoringly. "It is now.”

Myka smirks shyly. “No, I mean, are you happier since you moved here?”

Helena's cheerful expression blanks. She pulls back and settles into her seat.

Myka mentally kicks herself, wishing she hadn’t asked, knowing in her gut the conversation wasn't meant to veer into serious territory tonight. But she’s itching to hear about Helena’s past and thinks a little digging can’t hurt. Not with this Helena, the one demurely perched in front of her with her guard lowered.

Helena takes a weighty sip of her drink and eyes Myka pensively over the rim. She exhales deeply and sets down her glass. “Previous to Christina, my work was my life. I’d socialize occasionally when urged by Claudia but most days I'd be lost solving problems, working out new programs, tinkering with lofty ideas. Once Christina was born, my focus waned. She became my world. I found watching her learn and grow endlessly fascinating."

Helena shifts in her seat and leans forward, casting her eyes towards her hands which now rest on the table.

"New York was meant to be a new beginning of sorts. My goal was to find a job I didn’t bring home with me, something related to my studies, less consuming than my previous projects. At least, until Christina was in school. But I didn’t understand what that meant, really. Quite honestly I was overqualified for the jobs I applied for, and my arrogant attitude at the time proved not at all helpful.” Helena gives Myka a weak smile.

Myka notices Helena's thumb digging uncomfortably into her palm. She reaches out and stills Helena's fingers.

At Myka’s touch, Helena pulls her hands off the table and shrinks back. Her eyes meet Myka’s and a spark lights. “So I thought sod it. I was through selling myself in order to be hired by jobs beneath my proficiency. I decided I didn't need technology to survive. I'd go off the grid like my parents, disappear into the fabric of the city. I’d take care of my own in whatever form that took."

Myka shirks back, and averts her gaze, avoiding the dark intensity in Helena's eyes. Helena looks to the side and runs a hand through her hair.

“Claudia thought I gone completely off the deep end and eventually turned a blind eye to my dealings. Over time I subscribed to the sort of numbing comfort one finds within a routine. Which, by the way, I've found only lasts so long. When you can’t pay your bills, all bets are off.” Helena’s lips form a humble grin.

Myka’s shoulders relax, and she smiles weakly in return. She’s about to ask a follow-up question when her phone rings.

Myka views the screen and hits accept, throwing Helena apologetic eyes. “Hi, Vanessa.” The conversation lasts a few minutes and Myka mostly listens, speaking occasionally to agree or disagree. “Ok, great! I’ll see you tomorrow.” She ends the call and sets down the phone, eyes beaming, a smile plastered across her face.

“That sounded positive,” Helena says expectantly.

“Yeah.” Myka's smile grows so wide she can feel it. "The partnership with the gallery in London...it just grew to include something new, something bigger.”

“What do you mean?"

“Not new in the world. But new for us. For our gallery."

Helena angles her brows in.

“Antiquities. Buying, selling, exhibiting, researching— antiquities."

Helena’s face drops. “I-I thought you worked exclusively with contemporary art. This is quite a jump, is it not?"

“Yes and no. I minored in art history as an undergrad. I might not know not as much as an art historian, but I know a lot.” Myka feels thrown by Helena’s scrutiny.

“I’m sure you’re quite proficient within any genre of art, Myka, but if you don't mind me asking, what kind of antiquities, exactly?"

Myka thinks Helena's being a little weird about all of this but does her best to answer. “I think works related to other works being shown at each gallery. Though I’m sure Irene Frederic has her eye on the esoteric and unique."

“Oh.” Helena’s hand rises to rub her chin as her head shakes minutely up and down.

The waiter appears and serves their orders. He asks if they need anything else.

“Actually, could I have another?” Helena points to her drink. “Myka?"

Myka narrows her eyes at Helena, then looks at the waiter. “Sure. I’ll have one, too."

The waiter nods and leaves the table.

“That’s drink number two. You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?”

“No worry of that, love.” Helena’s face softens.

“Good."

Helena takes a bite of her meal. “Tell me about this Irene Frederic."

\-----------------------

Myka and Helena gaily stumble a few short blocks east towards the hotel Myka booked for their evening. Thankfully the mood lightened once the food was served. Myka feels lifted by Helena’s incessant flirty overtures and pleased their collective spirits have risen as high as they were at the gallery earlier.

After a speedy check in they shuffle toward the elevator and wait patiently for the car to arrive. Myka’s eyes flick nervously between Helena and digital numbers, mind traveling back to the day they waited for the elevator at Helena’s hotel. She reminds herself Helena doesn’t work here and tonight they are guests, therefore any racy thoughts she may be having can be let loose.

The doors part and the pair enter. Myka presses the correct floor and promptly drops her bags, abruptly lunging towards Helena just as the doors close. Helena smacks against the wall, head flying back as Myka's lips latch hungrily onto hers. Helena's hands move to circle Myka’s hips.

Myka pushes closer, drinking in the warm feel of Helena’s body against hers, coveting the thinness of her dress. She threads her fingers through Helena’s razor straight locks as her hips cant forward, following a will of their own.

The elevator comes to a halt on the twentieth floor and Myka hesitantly pulls back. Helena snickers as Myka trips during her attempt to pick up her bags and exit the elevator in one suave motion. Myka shuffles down the hall and swiftly slides the keycard into the lock. Holding the door open, she swings an arm, inviting Helena to enter first.

Helena crosses the threshold, and Myka quickly follows, hastily pulling the door closed, immediately jettisoning her bags. Flitting toward Helena, she stops centimeters away, mouth bent into a seductive grin, eyes ablaze. She takes Helena’s hands in hers and whispers in her ear, "I’ll be right back,” then presses her lips to Helena’s cheek, leaving a kiss full of promises. Laying a hand on Helena’s chest, she gives a light push, propelling Helena backward onto the king sized bed.

“Stay put,” Myka warns, pointing a finger. She spins around and crosses the room.

Grabbing her bag, she disappears into the bathroom and quickly sheds all of her clothes. She shimmies on a red vintage slip, bought specially for the occasion, her logic being Helena might need a little extra something to get her in the mood. But Helena’s exceeded all of her expectations tonight, and while she knows she should be nervous, she’s strangely not. She fusses with her hair in the mirror, deciding not to overthink, acknowledging it just feels right, being with Helena, like this, tonight. Taking a deep breath, she instructs herself to live in the moment then walks confidently out the door.

Myka finds Helena lying on her back, head on a pillow, eyes closed. Her shoes lie in a pile on the floor.

Helena rouses as Myka approaches. She props herself up on her elbows, eyes beaming with a radiant lust, a smile growing to cover her entire face.

“Look at you, Myka. You’re a vision."

Myka feels the heat emanating from Helena’s gaze as it scorches a path up and down her form. Feeling bold, she gives a sassy twirl, then hops onto the bed. She straddles Helena’s legs, shuffling forward on her knees, slip hiking up in the process.

Helena rises, bending at the waist, hands sliding across the sides Myka’s exposed thighs, stopping just shy of the hem of her slip. Her eyes follow her fingers as they trace a line back and forth over Myka’s supple flesh, then flick up to meet Myka’s as she towers above her above her.

Leaning forward, she kisses a trail across Myka’s neck, lingering on a point in the middle, dipping into the crook of Myka’s neck. Myka emits a low growl, back arching, as Helena applies pressure to a particularly sensitive spot. The kisses slow then stop as Helena drags her lips across Myka's collarbone, pausing at the valley where neck meets torso. She exhales heavily and rests her forehead on Myka’s chest, hands stilling on the crest of Myka’s hips.

Myka drinks in the feel of Helena’s hot breath as it burns into her flesh and shudders as Helena's fingers tense, digging through the fabric of her slip. Dipping her hands into Helena's hair, she tilts Helena’s head up, urging their gazes to meet. She finds Helena’s eyes feverish, over bright and thinks she's seen that look before, though finds it’s origin hard to place.

“Are you ok?”

Helena reaches up and snags Myka’s wrists, carefully removing Myka's hands, keeping eye contact all the while.

Myka’s heart drops as her mind rationalizes Helena’s hesitancy. “Did I do something wrong?”

Helena lowers Myka's arms but keeps hold of her wrists. “No.”

Helena’s response doesn’t register as Myka worries she pushed too hard too soon. “I-I’ve never done this with a woman before.”

“What?” Helena releases Myka’s wrists.

Myka looks down shyly. "I thought you knew."

“No.” Helena’s tone is soft.

“I-I wanted you to be my first.” Myka bites her bottom lip and angles her eyes up at Helena.

“Of course.” Helena’s eyes brighten immediately.

Myka leans in for a kiss. Helena shirks back.

Myka’s stomach flutters. She mentally curses herself for getting the signals all wrong. Maybe she can’t live in the moment. Maybe she doesn’t know how.

“Myka, I-I can’t."

“You can’t what?” Myka cocks her head and narrows her eyes, suddenly thinking maybe this isn’t all about her.

Helena stares anxiously but but does not reply.

“You can’t do this right now, or you can’t do this ever. Because honestly, I thought I was looking pretty irresistible in this outfit.” Myka looks down at her garment.

“You are irresistible. You’re perfect in every way.” Helena takes hold of Myka’s hands and eyes the lace outlining the neckline of Myka’s slip.

Myka squeezes Helena’s hands. “Then tell me what’s wrong?"

Helena looks up, eyes burning with desire, lips parted. She releases Myka’s hands and reaches out, gingerly fingering the strap of Myka’s slip.

Myka shivers at Helena’s touch.

“Please believe me when I say there’s nowhere on earth I’d rather be than here, like this, with you.” Helena’s fingers slide lower, slipping under the strap, then flipping as her touch meets fabric, continuing downward to trace a seam.

Myka breathes in sharply as Helena's hand softly grazes the side of her breast. Her eyes flutter closed at the feel of Helena’s fingers raking down, following the curve of her hip, stilling at the hem of her slip.

Helena removes her hand. It shakes wildly.

Myka seizes Helena’s hand and pulls it close. “Helena?"

Helena stares at their hands, pausing for a moment as if deciding what to say. Her eyes dart up to meet Myka’s. “You deserve better, Myka. Better than what I’ve become."

“Helena…” Myka mentally kicks herself for bringing up Helena’s past earlier, and for leaving Helena alone on the bed. During the few precious minutes she was gone, some kind of logic in Helena’s brain must have shifted. She decides she needs to do something drastic to shift it back.

Myka lifts Helena’s hand to her mouth and places a kiss her palm, all the while holding Helena’s gaze. She takes a finger into her mouth and sucks on it lightly, biting softly as she wraps her tongue around its form. At the sound of Helena’s breathing quickening, she pulls the finger out and flashes a wide, provocative grin.

Helena's eyes close and she takes in a deep breath.

Myka leans forward, forcing Helena to lie back. She places her hands next to Helena’s head and dips down, capturing Helena’s lips in an insistent kiss. She gently bites then pulls on Helena's bottom lip, teasing her tongue across its surface until her lips part just enough to enter, body sinking slowly to fully contact Helena's.

Helena emits an encouraging groan as Myka’s tongue touches hers. Her hands fly up, tangling themselves in Myka’s curls and she arches up, body pushing as close as possible to Myka’s. Her hands trail down to caress Myka’s shoulders and slip toward the small of her back, stopping on the rise of Myka’s hips.

Myka smiles into Helena’s lips and pulls back to look Helena in the eye. “You’re wearing far too many clothes, Ms. Wells. I think we need to remedy this immediately, don’t you?” She slips a strap off Helena’s shoulder and places heated kisses across Helena’s newly exposed skin.

Helena’s hands slide off of Myka’s back and drop onto the bed.

Myka angles her eyes up and finds Helena’s face pinched, eyes closed.

Myka halts and lifts up on her arms.

Helena’s teeth bite into her bottom lip. She opens her eyes but offers no explanation.

Myka scoots her knees forward and sits back on her haunches, still straddling Helena. She throws Helena a frustrated eye. “This better be better than that lame excuse you threw at me earlier because frankly? That was kinda insulting."

Helena lifts up on her elbows. “We need to talk."

“Can't we talk…after?” Myka draws circles with her finger on Helena’s stomach, relishing the feel of the rapid rise and fall of Helena’s tight abs.

Helena’s gaze follows the path of Myka’s finger. “You have no idea how desperately I want you, Myka."

Myka lurches forward, pinning Helena to the bed. “I think I do.” She kisses her fiercely.

Helena places her hands on Myka’s shoulders and slowly presses up, lifting her to the point where their lips can't touch.

Myka's heart races, breath coming in waves. She grimaces.

“There's something you need to know."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave you hanging at the end of the last chapter, but this one should clear a few things up. I’d like to propose a few concepts ahead of time: 1) It’s very possible if Helena is flirting with you heavily that she’s avoiding something equally heavy and 2) Myka’s not very good at reading people. She’ll figure out what’s wrong eventually, but she’s not intuitive. (That’s Pete’s job on the show.) I’d also wager we’re a little past the middle of this saga, though there’s much to be sorted in the future. And, since we're mired in conflict, I thought it might be worth stating if you stick with me to the end, this thing gets hella fluffy. Feel free to gimme a shout if you have feelings about how this unwinds (or anything, really).

————————

> _"Mine is the city of melancholy Brits —Dickens, Gissing, Johnson, especially Johnson— the ones in which we are none of us going anywhere, we're there already, we, the eternal groundlings who wander these mean and marvelous streets in search of a self reflected back in the eye of the stranger.”_  
>  —Vivian Gornick _The Odd Woman and the City_

\-------------

Helena’s muscles strain as Myka presses down, hoping her body weight is enough to buckle Helena's arms. If she just can kiss Helena again, the talking could be postponed, she thinks, but Helena's grip stays firm and her glare, unrelenting.

After several tense moments, Myka gives in. Her body slackens, and she pushes up, settling back on her knees, straddling Helena’s legs. She crosses her arms tightly over her chest.

“Fine. So I guess whatever this is it can’t wait for someone else to tell me first?"

Helena’s mouth downturns. She props herself up on her elbows. “Not even Claudia knows this."

Myka’s arms slide slowly apart and drop to her sides. “Oh.”

Helena drops her chin. “I’d convinced myself you didn’t need to know."

Myka's chest tightens at Helena’s words. She shifts her weight further back and links her hands on her lap.

“Why now?"

“Because tonight, the odds have shifted.”

Helena’s eyes glow with a clarity Myka's never seen before. She stares openly at Helena, wondering at what point things went wrong, what detail did she miss.

"Dinner was lovely, by the way. The entire evening’s been absolutely enchanting.” Helena’s lips rise weakly at the ends.

Myka’s posture stiffens. "How could it be enchanting if I'm freaking you out?”

Helena pushes up on her arms, bending forward at the waist. Myka lists back, allowing space for Helena to sit up.

“You’re not at fault for any of this.”

Helena takes hold of Myka’s hands and Myka instantly threads her fingers through Helena’s. She gives them a tug.

“What’s going on with you?"

Helena shifts her hips, wearing a small, strained grin. “At present, a sublimely beautiful woman is crushing my legs.”

“Oh!” Myka lifts up and off, settling next to Helena on the bed.

Helena stretches her knees, then shimmies back, propping herself up against the headboard. She stares solemnly at Myka, shoulders pulled low. Myka stares back, heart in her throat, unsure of what to do or say next. Deciding the sadness in Helena’s eyes is just too much to bear, she slides across the bed and lays her head on Helena’s shoulder. She reaches behind her back and pulls Helena's arm around her then grazes a hand across Helena’s midriff, pulling her close. Helena threads her fingers through Myka’s and lays them on her stomach, running her thumb over Myka’s knuckle.

“I don’t want to hear this, do I?”

Helena’s thumb stills.

Myka lifts her head to look Helena in the eye, but Helena doesn’t meet her gaze.

“The opportunity arose quite by chance."

Myka lays her head back on Helena’s shoulder.

“An Englishman approached me at the bar, offering a job. Apparently he’d overheard my plea to the manager earlier that day. Christina needed surgery for her ears, and I'd requested both time off and more hours on the floor. Giselle and I had recently spilt, and Claudia wasn’t speaking to me. I was strapped for both cash and time."

Myka gives Helena's hand an encouraging squeeze.

“The job was presented as a one-time offer, take it or leave it. But my accent and polish proved perfect for the task and our partnership continued for nearly a year."

Myka’s stomach quivers at the thought of Helena managing to hide something from Claudia for an entire year, knowing how entwined their lives are.

Helena releases Myka’s hand. “The items I sold were reproductions; each work came with a certificate identifying it as a copy. The fabrication was of the highest quality: a Roman helmet here, a Louis XVI couch there, a mirror from Tzarist Russia in transit. Never the same thing twice."

Myka tenses and slides off Helena’s shoulder, slowly pulling away. She places a few feet of distance between them and stares, eyes wide, heart beating faster than it should. “Antiquities?"

“Antiquities.” Helena nods in small strokes.

"Ok." Myka cranes her neck and narrows her eyes. "So why is that a bad thing?"

Helena’s lips flatten. "I dealt with many clients such as yourself, Myka. Clients working for high profile collectors. Collectors like Irene Frederic."

Myka shirks further back. "You know Irene Frederic?"

"Not personally, but she is quite well known."

"Ok, so I'll ask again, how is any of this a bad thing? You know some of the people I'll be working with."

Helena combs a hand roughly through her hair and looks to a point across the room. She wets her lips and exhales a weighted breath. “In the Times, a few weeks back, there was a rather lengthy article detailing the demise of a particular dealer of antiquities. Are you familiar with it?"

Myka thinks for a moment, then gawks at Helena, mouth falling open. “I read it, yeah. Everyone at Basel was talking about it. _That’s_ who you were working for?"

“Yes."

"The antiquities weren't fake, were they? They were stolen."

“Apparently, yes."

"You didn't know?"

"I had my suspicions."

“You never asked?"

“My commission being what it was, the particulars were of little interest to me. And it was merely art, not espionage."

Myka gasps and raises a haughty brow.

“I could never have imagined meeting you.” Helena reaches out to touch Myka ’s hand.

Myka shrinks back. “So you sold stolen art."

“Emily Lake brokered the sale of fine art and antiquities reproductions. Helena Wells did not."

Myka's mouth drops open, eyes bulging. "You used a fake name, too?"

"Yes." Helena smiles sheepishly.

Myka looks away, teeth biting her bottom lip. Her nostrils flare. “There’s an investigation. And a trial, right?"

"Yes."

“And you're part of that?"

Helena smacks her lips. "Macpherson was quick to blame anyone but himself. I’ve fully cooperated with the police. I'll remain under watch until the investigation is complete and sentencing begins."

“When’s that?"

“Eminently."

“Then what happens?"

“I may serve time for fraud. Or be deported. If I’m exceptionally lucky, a slap on the wrist and probation for a year."

Myka grimaces. She has no retort for that, for any of this. It’s too close to the bone. She pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes. “So is your work visa thing, that's related to this?"

“No. I believe that has something to do with Walter. Giselle helped file the paperwork, but it was approved after we'd split. I’m not sure what she did to push it through.” Helena exhales heavily.

“Giselle.” Myka's jaw clenches. She feels her blood pressure rising. "Why haven’t you told Claudia?"

“I didn’t want her to be involved in any way. I’ve already dragged her far enough through my wayward affairs."

“Is that why you won’t stay with her, why you were looking for a place?"

“Yes.” Helena’s rigid expression slides off her face. She slumps back on the bed. “And no.”

Myka narrows her eyes.

“You’ve seen them together. They’re like peas in a pod. And Claudia’s done very well for herself. Her future’s blindingly bright. After all of this, there are times that I think…” Helena's words soften. She looks away.

Myka feels her blood begin to boil the longer Helena hesitates. Based on previous conversations with Claudia, she’s pretty sure she knows what Helena’s going to say, but since Helena's chosen tonight, of all nights, to own up to her feelings, Myka's going to push. “Think what, Helena. What. Say the words.”

Helena’s gaze flicks toward Myka. “I think they’d be better off without me."

"But you’re her mother. Claudia’s more like a sister. She doesn’t want to be a mom."

“I know. It’s incredibly selfish of me, and I’m deeply ashamed at the thought. But if we stayed with Claudia, I’m not sure I could stop myself."

“You’d never do it."

“You don’t know that."

“You’d never leave that little girl."

“If I’m in prison, what’s the difference.” Helena’s lips sneer as she tosses a hand.

“It’s totally different.”

“Different how? I'm letting her down either way."

“At least, she'd know where you are. She could visit—"

“Visit the pathetic shell of a human that is her mother.” Helena crosses her arms and shrinks back.

“Is it that bad? Do you really think you might go to jail?"

“Yes.” Helena takes a breath. “No. I don’t know. That bloody article in the paper’s put me on edge. And the trial is winding down."

Myka moves a hair closer. “What are we going to do?"

"If I were you, Myka, I’d run far, far away from me."

"Is that your answer to everything?"

“You can’t be associated with someone like me, Myka. How bad would that look for you professionally? Personally?” Helena’s eyes well up with moisture. She twists to roll off the bed.

Myka lunges and grabs Helena’s arm. “Don’t. Lie here with me, ok?"

Helena’s arm goes limp, and she slumps onto the bed, lying on her side, facing away from Myka.

Myka slips an arm around Helena’s waist and slides in behind her. She does her best to conform to Helena’s shape and places her head on Helena’s shoulder.

“Don’t leave."

The two lie in an uneasy silence for quite some time. Myka hugs Helena tightly, lessening her hold when she feels Helena’s body slacken. As the moment calms, her breath slowly deepens, and she drifts off into an anxious sleep.

\---------------

Myka feels lips, kissing, navigating wildly and senses a shock of black hair flashing before her eyes. The sensation trails from her ear to her neck, across her shoulder, then down her naked flesh; she's completely engulfed; hands seem to move everywhere at once, magically stopping exactly where they should. She feels herself writhing, impatiently wanting more, moving rhythmically as if on instinct, muscles tensing...

Her body clenches and she gasps out loud, heart beating out of her chest, breath erratic, labored. She tries to move but finds her limbs are frozen. As her mind slowly regains consciousness, she tilts her head and angles her eyes down. Her clothes are still on. She looks to the side. Helena’s not there.

“Helena?” Her voice sounds groggy but pensive. She pulls herself up to search the room and notes beads of condensation have formed on the windows. It must be raining. Helena’s bag is gone.

She falls back, sinking as far into the pillow as possible, rationalizing her incredibly, rousingly tactile dream. Feeling as if she’s a raw nerve about to burst, she closes her eyes and desperately wishes she’ll wake up tomorrow finding the whole evening an elaborate fabrication of her subconscious mind.

Climbing under the covers, she closes her eyes and tries calm herself, but her thoughts toggle between her blissful dream and Helena’s confession. She pulls a pillow close and hugs it tightly, soon falling into a agitated sleep.

\-------------------

Myka’s eyes slowly open as an insistent buzzing sound registers in her brain. She hauls herself up and off the bed, drowsily shuffling across the floor, swiftly locating her purse near the door. Digging through the bag, she locates her phone and silences the alarm. She checks her messages and finds nothing new to report.

As she walks toward the bed, she surveys the room and spies Helena’s scarf peeking out from underneath a pillow. Pulling the garment free, she lifts it up to her nose and inhales deeply, eyes fluttering closing. As Helena’s scent fills her lungs, the events of last night come flooding back and she tenses but vows to move forward, to not panic. Work will be busier than ever today so there’ll be no time to wallow in the depths of whatever it was that happened last night. And she’s thankful for that.

She wraps the scarf around her neck, thinking surely Helena will call later to let her know she’s ok. She huffs a single laugh, chiding herself, knowing Helena won’t call; she knows that in her gut. Her eyes close and tears gather under her lashes as her upper lip begins to quiver. She breathes a sharp breath and dries her eyes with her hand, solemnly promising to put the whole thing behind her until she can think about it properly later tonight.

Moving toward the bathroom, she drops the scarf in her bag and shifts into work mode, emerging twenty minutes later showered, dressed and ready for the day. She packs quickly and gives the room a once over, feet moving spontaneously toward the window, unconsciously compelled to take in the view. The grandiose verticality of Manhattan is breathtaking, and her lips curl up at the ends as she eyes the art deco charm that is the Chrysler building. Her gaze dives through the city’s undulating architectural peaks and valleys, and she marvels at the sheer density of people housed there. Eight million souls dwell in this town, she thinks, eight million stories in flux every single minute. Suddenly her presence feels microscopic, inconsequential; her trajectory a mere speck on the horizon. She understands how one could lose themselves, lose their desire to be found, within the machinations of big city life. Taking one last look across the horizon, she thinks of Helena, and with a heavy sigh makes her way out the door.

Her day does prove hectic; her attention pulled in several directions at once. Today she's learned she’ll be heading to Boston over the weekend to view potential acquisitions for the Frederic-Calder venture. She’s not that excited to be traveling again but decides to make the most of it by scheduling an impromptu visit with Abigail in Providence, an hour away. Feeling completely overwhelmed by this situation with Helena and needing time to think, she decides four hours on the train and the advice of her best friend should clear some things up.

Too exhausted to manage the subway, she takes a cab home and orders delivery the minute she arrives. She tries to still her spinning thoughts by flopping on the bed and closing her eyes, but visions of Helena fill her mind. Her eyes fly open, and she stares intensely at the ceiling, forcing her mind to blank. She’s not ready to process the last twenty-four hours just yet.

Her meal arrives in short order, but she abandons it halfway though. Her phone buzzes and she jumps, then lunges across her desk to answer. Her nerves calm as she notes it’s Abigail, getting back to her about staying the night on Saturday. She replies to the text, then checks her message list. Nothing from Helena. She checks her email, fully knowing Helena doesn’t email and finds nothing new of importance. She throws her phone on the bed.

Standing spiritlessly in the middle of the room, she takes a good, hard look at her surroundings and feels a sharp pang of dissatisfaction at the state of disarray. The studio side is an utter mess, bubble wrap littering the floor, paint slowly drying on her palette. The living side is none the better as papers and books sprawl across her desk, a jacket hangs from the back of her chair.

In a vague effort to tidy, she removes the jacket and hangs it in her closet. Her hand moves across her wardrobe and catches on an item covered in thin plastic. She pulls the garment out and removes the plastic, then lays it on the bed. Her chest tightens and her eyes widen as she takes a step back, staring at the item. She hasn’t looked at the dress since the day of the explosion, the day she met Helena, the day everything changed.

Her eyes travel around the room again. She feels dislocated; the items surrounding her seem foreign, everything is hers yet very little seems to be her. The closet brims over with newly purchased clothes, the furniture all bought in a pinch, the walls sparsely decorated with photos and art. She resides here, but does not dwell.

Shaking off her heavy thoughts, she forces herself to focus on tomorrow. Tomorrow evening she’ll be on a train to Boston, and she needs to pack, now. She pinches the bridge of her nose and plops heavily on the edge of the bed. Her job…a few months ago she was the assistant to the registrar, and now she’s spearheading a partnership. Where did all this responsibility come from so soon? So much has been thrown at her over the last few weeks, the last few days…she’s completely overwhelmed. She breathes a deep breath and feels a small sense of relief to be seeing Abigail this weekend.

Locating her overnight bag, she empties its contents and finds Helena’s scarf hidden within. She glares at it briefly then casts it aside, fretfully pulling the rest of the contents out of the bag. The scarf catches her eye as it lies in an elegant line across the dress draped over the bed and she thinks: here lies Helena the savior and Helena the destroyer. She closes her eyes tightly and sucks in a shaky breath. A tear trails down her cheek, and she sniffs, lips trembling as her eyes open, vision blurred by moisture gathering in her lashes. She plucks Helena's scarf off the bed and holds it close, then crawls on top, pulling the dress toward her into an embrace. Her body crumples into the fetal position, body gently convulsing as she silently sobs. Tears fall in earnest until she falls into a fitful, anxious sleep.

\----------------

Friday at work is a blur and the train to Boston packed to the gills. She tries to relax by reading but finds it difficult to concentrate and instead stares out the window, watching Connecticut fly by, letting thoughts of Helena fill her mind. Is Helena ok? Should she call her? She wants to see her but what would she say? Would she lash out in anger or burst into tears? She’s really not sure. To put her mind at ease, she pulls out her laptop and loses herself in paperwork for tomorrow.

Saturday’s meeting proves a formal affair, but not overly so. A handful of prospective buyers are present, and several items are viewed. The dealer seems respectable yet she finds herself scrutinizing his every move, every turn of phrase. He could easily be Helena, she thinks, and Helena, _her_ Helena, was caught selling stolen goods. She pictures Helena careening about in a smart, businesslike outfit, using her elocution and grace to charm clients blind. Irritated by the thought, she throws the salesman a chilly glare but softens its edges as the man looks back with confusion.

The event wraps in the afternoon and Myka heads to the train. Finding she has some time to kill before travelling to Providence, she exits the station and walks toward the river, rolling her luggage behind her. Crossing the street, she parks herself on an empty bench overlooking the river. She pulls her phone out and checks her messages then drops the phone onto her lap. Leaning back in her seat, she stares blankly across the water at nothing in particular, eyes glazing over.

A couple walks into view with two children in tow, both around Christina’s age. The kids run over to the railing and point to something in the distance. The parents follow.

“Dad, look!” Kid #1 says excitedly.

“Yep, that’s where we’re going.” The dad nods.

“Cool!” The kids scramble off ahead.

The parents hurry to catch up. “Be careful crossing the street!"

Daytrippers, Myka thinks and takes a look in the direction they were pointing.

The wooden masts of one, no, two sailboats in the water a block away are visible. Intrigued, she queries her phone and finds they belong to the Boston Tea Party Museum. She glances at the masts once more, then watches the family turn and enter the building.

She taps a finger on her lips. Boats, she thinks. And kids. Kids and boats. Kids like boats. Helena was a kid on a boat. Christina’s a kid that would like bring on a boat. Kids and boats…she taps a foot and bites her bottom lip, looking up at the sky as to find answers to questions she’s not really asking.

She takes in a deep, cleansing breath and checks the time. Scrolling through her contacts, she clicks on a number and hits call before she changes her mind. The line goes to straight to voicemail.

“Helena, it’s Myka. I just…are you ok? We should talk. I’m in Boston until Monday, but let’s meet up soon. Call me."

Hitting end, she covers her mouth with a hand and stares at her phone, thinking she promised herself she’d wait until talking to Abigail before calling Helena, but clearly she couldn’t help herself, not with boats and kids being waved around in front of her. Now the ball’s in Helena’s court, she thinks. And now, she waits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Abigail to the rescue! Abigail sheds some light on Helena’s troubled mind, giving Myka hope for the future. Claudia hosts a 4th of July party.
> 
> NOTE: It’s worth noting Helena's predicament was inspired by a rather lengthy article about a real art smuggler in the New York Times this summer: [ Graphics,](http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2015/07/26/arts/design/kapoor_graphic.html) [Main article ](http://www.nytimes.com/2015/07/26/arts/design/the-ultimate-temple-raider-inside-an-antiquities-smuggling-operation.html?_r=0)
> 
> NOTE: Years ago I saw a band named Pooka from Ireland play in New York on their first trip to the States. During their stage banter, one member asked a question to the tune of, "What would happen if everyone left their buildings at the same time and flooded the street?" The thought has haunted me ever since.
> 
> NOTE: So the quote…I just started reading _[The Odd Woman and the City](http://www.amazon.com/The-Odd-Woman-City-Memoir/dp/0374298602)_ as recommended by my non-fiction writing teacher and couldn't resist putting something up. I haven't read many memoirs, well...non women-in-music memoirs, and so far it's a superb read about New York. (A real hardback book, bought at an independent bookstore. Imagine that...)
> 
> Happy Holidays!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Abigail to the rescue! Abigail sheds some light on Helena’s troubled mind, giving Myka hope for the future. Claudia hosts a 4th of July party.

——————————

 _“New York City, city of exaggerations. Place of Herculean ascensions and perilous falls.”_  
― Kurt Wenzel, _Lit Life: A Novel_

\-----------------

Myka's phone dings as her train pulls into the Providence station.

_\- WaterFire tonight. Traffic nightmare. Meet on the State House side. Driving around_

Myka sighs.

_\- Gotcha_

She wondered why the train was so packed. Downtown’s going to be a mess.

Elbowing her way through groups of out-of-towners, she strides directionally through the station and out onto the street. Abigail arrives a few moments later and honks. Myka throws her bag in the trunk and steps into the car.

A cop waves Abigail on.

“Alright, alright, jeez. You’d think The Pope was here or something.” Abigail side eyes Myka. “Sooo, any ‘burning’ desire to relive old memories by fighting a crowd of suburban families and drunk students while fire shoots from urns in the river? I've heard there’ll be stars on poles lighting up the bridge this year."

Myka chuckles out loud. “No, thanks."

“Good. Hungry?"

“Yeah."

“Julian’s?"

Myka hesitates. “I-I don't want to run into anyone we know."

“That bad, huh?"

Myka slumps in her seat and tugs on the bottom of her shirt.

“Well, that narrows it down. We should have met in Boston."

Myka grimaces.

“Let me think.” Abigail stares blankly out the window as she waits for a red light to change.

“How about tacos and we just go back to my place."

“Yeah. Great." Myka sinks further in her seat and rests her head on the passenger window.

Abigail drives to the far west side. They pick up food then circle back and arrive at Abigail’s apartment in short order. Myka drags her bag up steep wooden stairs to the third floor and once inside, settles on the couch. Abigail grabs two beers from the fridge and sets them on the coffee table. She drops next to Myka and unwraps her tacos.

“Ok, spill.”

Myka freezes mid-bite and glances timidly at Abigail. “It can wait until after we eat."

“No, it can’t. That droopy face of yours is making me lose my appetite. Talk."

“Sorry.” Myka sets down her taco and lifts a hand to rub the back of her neck. “There are things…things Claudia doesn’t know."

“Mum’s the word.” Abigail makes a motion as if zipping her lips.

“Ok.” Myka leans back on the couch.

Abigail listens quietly as Myka expounds the details of her evening with Helena. The tale begins in careful, metered tones but soon spins off into a heated, heartfelt rant.

“Why didn’t she say something at dinner? Why reel me in then drop me like that?” Myka crumples over, her voice a mix of anger and distress. Her eyes fill with tears.

“Myka." Abigail places a comforting hand on Myka’s upper arm. "Myka, Myka, Myka. You’ve got her all turned around, haven’t you. She’s obviously got it real bad for you, you know."

Myka’s eyes dart up. She glares at Abigail. “No jokes, Abs, please."

"I’m not not joking. This date meant a lot to her—"

“It meant a lot to me—”

"But for her, it was everything. Her chance to finally give you what you wanted."

“What _I_ wanted?"

Abigail sits back. "Let me ask you this. Do you really believe she suddenly remembered she’d hidden that dress in Claudia’s closet?"

“Sure. I guess."

“A dress _and_ shoes _and_ a scarf? All having survived the chaos of the last eight years."

Myka's brows move together, forehead wrinkling.

“How long have you been trying to plan this date?"

“Months.” Myka abruptly looks down at the floor, and her eyes widen. Her hand rises to cover her mouth. “It was our ‘official’ date. The 'official' thing got her really freaked out."

"Why?"

"She said she didn't know how to go on an 'official' date."

“Huh." Abigail nods minutely.

Myka looks up at Abigail, eyes wider than before. “So you think she’s been planning this since day one?"

“I do. She’s had a lot of time to dream up ways to fulfill every fantasy implied the word 'official.’"

“So when Vanessa called about my job…” Myka's mouth hangs open. She stares at Abigail, mind reeling.

“Quite the conundrum. Should she continue playing the part of the perfect girlfriend, or break character and ruin the evening by revealing her deepest secrets."

Myka lowers her head her hands. “Oh god. And I pushed her so hard.”

“You were just following her lead.” Abigail places a gentle hand on Myka’s shoulder.

“But there must have been signs right? I didn't...I was so excited by that call from Vanessa and with Helena being there."

Abigail gives Myka’s shoulder a squeeze.

“It was all an act, wasn’t it?” Myka lifts her head, eyes hardening as they meet Abigail's.

“Not an act per se. The dress helped her channel a Helena from the past, a Helena that felt in control, who's future was bright. I think she genuinely wants to be that person for you." Abigail slides her hand off Myka’s shoulder.

“But I've never asked her to be anything but herself; the person she is now."

“This isn’t about your wishes; it’s about her perception of herself. She's been hiding for so long she doesn't know who she is anymore." Abigail's volume rises.

Myka sits up straighter. “Hiding?”

“Yes, hiding. Hiding in low level, faceless jobs; hiding in an apartment that would never be hers; hiding in mediocre relationships, allowing someone else to call the shots. She even used a fake name to sell fake art. The only thing she’s not hiding from, as of yet, is Christina."

Myka frowns deeply.

“You’ve broken the barrier between her carefully constructed public facade and the unruly, turbulent demons hidden within. As your career’s blossomed, she’s been caught in a loop, calculating and recalculating her worthiness of the title 'Myka Bering’s girlfriend.' A critical mass was hit after Vanessa's phone call. And the odds—"

“Shifted.” Myka slumps.

“Right. She’s been weighing the odds since day one. Withholding the trial must have eaten her up inside and then, in the heat of the moment, her facade cracked, her defenses broke down, and she admitted to herself how incredibly selfish it would be to follow through without fessing up."

Myka feels her lungs tighten, unsure if she’s relieved to understand Helena’s motives or ashamed to be the cause of her uncertainty.

"So I repeat, she’s got it bad for you."

Myka flashes a weak smile and breaks eye contact, sinking further into the couch.

"She’s not wrong, though. This trial thing? It could really hurt your reputation."

“I know.” Myka's eyes flick up to meet Abigail's. She bends forward and places her elbows on her knees. “The thing is? I kind of don’t care."

"You still want to be with her?”

“Yeah.” Myka’s lips quirk up on one side. Her eyes sparkle.

“Why?"

Myka shakes her head. "I can’t explain. We have this…connection. Maybe from how we met? I don't know. But I’ve never felt anything like it before. It’s like, I know in my gut we’re meant to be together."

Abigail chuckles. "That’s the most irrational thing I've ever heard you say, Myka Bering."

"I know. And it’s not just her. I miss Christina, too."

“Weird. Because you? And kids?"

"I know.” Myka slouches.

"You’ve got it bad, too."

“I-I think I’m in love with her, Abs."

“Oh, Myka.” Abigail pats Myka on the shoulder while shaking her head back and forth in small strokes. “Myka, Myka, Myka."

Myka heaves a resigned sigh.

"Ok, look. This can work, but it's going to be messy. Are you ready for messy?"

“Yeah.” Myka nods automatically.

“And you’ll need time. Plus, the patience of a nun."

Myka bites her bottom lip. “When should I call her again?"

“Give her time to cool down. Call Monday. If she doesn’t get back to you by Wednesday, go find her, maybe at work."

“Ok."

"Christina’s going to ask questions. So will Claudia. No matter what she’ll to have to face up to you sometime."

\--------------

Feeling a shade lighter, Myka says her goodbyes and travels back to New York Monday morning. She spends the rest of the day taking care of mundane, domestic things such as laundry, cleaning, groceries, and bills. By evening, she decides to text Helena instead of call, knowing it’s all too easy for Helena gloss over voicemail.

_\- Back in the city. Let’s meet up soon. Call me, ok?_

She holds her breath and she hits send but tells herself not to get her hopes up.

\---------------

Work on Tuesday and Wednesday proves jam packed with calls, emails, and questions from every angle. During a lull, she eyes her overflowing desk and realizes this is the way things will be until Leena returns from maternity leave. She smiles to herself, thinking she’s proud to have climbed through the ranks so quickly, seamlessly taking on the extra responsibility.

Before leaving the office, she checks her phone but finds no word from Helena. Time to set Plan B in motion.

She scrolls through her contacts and taps a number. The phone rings twice.

“Whassup, princess?"

“Hey, Claudia. Do you know where Helena’s working tomorrow? I thought I'd surprise her at lunch."

“Oooh, romantical."

“Yeah. Something like that."

“She’s playing macho man in the ‘hood. Not exactly sure where, but I can throw you a guesstimate."

“That’d be great. Let me get a pen..."

\-------------------

On Thursday, Myka does everything in her power to ensure she can leave the office for lunch. She follows Claudia’s instructions and heads east, scanning the street for signs of buildings under construction. Spying an appropriately placed dumpster, she turns a corner and finds a young man wearing earbuds with a dust mask on his head standing near the entrance of a brick building.

She approaches the man and gives a friendly smile. ”Hi. I’m looking for Helena. Does she work here?"

The man pulls an earbud from his ear and stares at Myka. He looks to the left and the right as if someone else might help to her.

Myka holds a hand at eye level, parallel to the sidewalk. “This tall, long black hair, pale—"

“No English.” The man anxiously shakes his head.

Myka quickly tries to remember what little Spanish she knows. She lifts a lock of hair and shakes it in his direction. “Negro, um, negra hair?” She pats her cheek. “Blanca skin?"

“Blanca!” His eyes light up.

“Blanca.” Myka nods eagerly.

He moves toward the door and waves a hand, ushering Myka into the building. They step into an apartment with walls missing and a ripped up floor. Myka hears voices in the distance, several male, one female. She follows the man as he maneuvers around a pile of rubble and turns a corner. He stops and points to a group of people sitting on the floor, eating.

He points to Helena. “Blanca.”

At the sound of the word, Helena looks toward the man. She glances briefly at Myka, then back at the man.

“Gracias, Miguel. Tomar un descanso.” Helena nods toward the floor.

Miguel smiles and joins the others. A man hands him half a sandwich.

Myka feels all eyes on her and finds group staring, each man wearing his own version of an inappropriate grin.

Helena speaks up. “Outside.” She rises and walks over to Myka, laying a hand on Myka’s shoulder, guiding her out of the room. As they exit, a chorus of wolf-whistles comes from behind.

“They like you,” Helena says, lips forming a tiny smile.

Myka grins shyly.

Helena guides Myka out of the building and around the corner, then stops a few paces away. She crosses her arms over her chest and shifts her weight onto one leg, her expression settling into a blank mask.

“How did you find me?"

“Claudia.” Myka keeps her tone level, realizing from Helena’s body language that perhaps meeting her at work wasn’t the best idea.

Helena’s arms drop and her eyes tighten.

“I didn’t tell her anything. I just asked where you were.”

Helena crosses her arms again.

Myka scowls and decides she needs to break through Helena’s defensive wall. “I don’t want us to be over, Helena. We need to talk.”

Helena’s mask drops and her eyes soften.

Myka takes a step closer and cranes over Helena's crossed arms, placing a brief but heartfelt kiss on Helena’s lips.

The sound of wolf-whistling again pierces the air.

Helena spins towards the building and throws her coworkers a deathly glare. As she turns back to Myka, her eyes warm.

“Claudia’s hosting a Fourth of July party on Saturday. Would you come? Christina would be ecstatic to see you. "

“Sure.” Myka searches Helena’s eyes and finds them muddled with a mixture of guilt and affection. Heaving a light sigh, she decides Helena's back to hiding behind Christina when expressing her own wishes. She recalls Abigail’s advice and tries to channel the patience of a nun.

Helena’s attention catches on a truck rumbling toward them. She lists in its direction as it as passes.

Her eyes meet Myka’s, and she gingerly fingers a lock of Myka's curls. “I must go, love. I’ll be in touch.” She gives Myka a peck on the cheek and bounds off toward the truck.

Helena waves an arm as the vehicle attempts to make a sharp turn. “Oi, mate! Cut to the left!”

Myka stares attentively, utterly captivated by Helena in work mode. Even in dusty, baggy clothes and a tattered baseball cap she's somehow still sexy.

She’s startled out of her stupor by the sound of her phone ringing. She steps a few paces across the sidewalk and leans against the building while taking the call.

In one ear, Katy explains London called and the gallery needs her approval for something as soon as possible. In the other, Myka overhears Helena’s coworkers gossiping through an open window.

“Que señora?"

“The girlfriend."

“El otro? La Latina?"

“From yesterday?"

“Si."

“Blanca's ex."

“Aiii! Esta las mas caliente."

“Yeah, this one _is_ hotter—"

“Julio! Johnny! Help unload the truck!” Helena shouts from a distance.

“Myka? Are you there? What do you think?” Katy asks through the phone.

“What?” Myka answers absently.

“About London. What should I say?"

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Can it wait?"

“Yeah."

“Sorry. It’s really loud on the street.” Myka hangs up.

“Giselle,” she says under her breath, feeling anger welling up inside. She throws a frosty glare in Helena's direction and stomps off toward the gallery.

\--------------

Helena texts Myka on Saturday, relaying the details of the party, stating she’s looking forward to seeing her. Myka reciprocates with an equally measured “looking forward to seeing you, too.” She wants to add, “I hope we can talk,” but decides not to push her luck.

On her way to Claudia’s, she briefly stops by work but ends up staying later than planned due to an email spiral with a Canadian museum. She finally arrives around seven, toting a six-pack of lemonades for Christina. The doorman lets her up without ringing, and when she reaches the sixteenth floor, the door to Claudia's apartment door is ajar. She walks straight in.

The room is packed with both adults and children. She searches for familiar faces and finds Steve talking to Claudia in the kitchen. She makes her way over.

Claudia spies Myka from a distance. “Princess! You made it.”

“Hey, Claudia. Nice turnout.” Myka smiles and turns to Steve. “Hi Steve.”

“Long time no see.” Steve extends a hand. Myka shakes it.

“Yeah. I’ve been pretty busy at work."

“H.G. filled us in. You got promoted or something, right?"

“Kinda. Is she here?” Myka scans the room for Helena.

“She’s either by the grill or with Christina in the 'castle.'” Steve points the neck of his beer toward the living room.

“Oh.” Myka’s hand tightens on the drinks handle as she takes in the sight of a massive mound of furniture and blankets piled high in the middle of the room.

Claudia tugs the lemonades out of Myka’s hand. “Gimme those drinks and go find yer lass.”

Myka startles but loosens her grip. “Ok. Thanks. Nice to see you, Steve."

“Likewise."

Myka makes her way across the room and spies Christina, Liam and Steve’s daughter Erica, and other kids running in and out of the castle. Stepping out onto the terrace, she wades through a group of parents hovering near the door and finds Helena standing at the grill, diligently filling a plate with burgers.

She walks up behind Helena and greets her with a soft “Hey."

Helena twists, eyes lighting up at the sight of Myka. She leans in and gives Myka a peck on the cheek.

“So glad you could make it.” She sets the burgers down and hands Myka a paper plate. “Eat. Sit."

Myka stares a Helena for a moment, then takes the plate.

“I’ll join you in a minute once I put the next round on.” Helena options with her eyes toward the grill.

“Ok.” Myka nods absently, overwhelmed by both the density of the party and Helena’s cheerful demeanor.

Deciding to do as Helena instructed, she surveys the potluck options sprawled across the table. Her mouth involuntarily waters, and she realizes she's barely eaten all day. She loads up her plate and takes a seat next to the grill.

Helena plops down next to her.

“Long day?”

Helena slumps in her chair. “Yes. Guests began arriving in the early afternoon, and I’m quite sure more are on their way. It’s a well-known fact Claudia has the best view of the fireworks in the neighborhood."

Myka looks in the direction of the river. “Who are all these people?"

"Claudia’s workmates and Christina's friends from school. And their parents. I’m not familiar with them all, but all are welcome nonetheless."

Helena rises to check the grill. Myka takes a bite of food and eyes the crowd. Christina bounds into view out of nowhere.

“Myka!” Christina’s flashes a toothy grin.

“Hey, Christina!” Myka smiles, heart swelling at the sight of the girl.

“What are you eating?” Christina climbs onto Helena’s recently vacated chair and leans over Myka’s plate.

“A burger and potato salad. Are you hungry?"

“Yeah.”

Helena turns and cocks a brow. “Did you not rather recently consume an entire hot dog smothered in ketchup?"

“Yeah, but I wanna eat with Myka.” Christina slowly falls over onto Myka’s shoulder and hugs her arm.

Helena grins at the sight. “Alright, but eat what you take."

“I will.” Christina twists and sits up on her knees, leaning over the back of the chair to survey her options.

Myka turns with her. “What do you want? I’ll get it for you."

“Desert.” Christina squints as she eyes her choices.

“I don’t see anything with bananas, but how about some of that green jello."

Christina scrunches her nose.

“Try it for me. I want to know what it tastes like."

“Ok.”

Myka places some jello in a paper bowl. "It has fruit, whipped cream, and marshmallows.” She hands the bowl to Christina.

Christina pokes the contents with her spoon. She glances at Myka, then tries a small portion. Her face brightens. “ I like it! It doesn’t taste green."

“I’m glad.” Myka smiles and takes a bite of her burger.

“Mom said you had to go away for work again.” Christina shovels in a mouthful of jello.

“I did.”

“How come you didn’t call us like last time, on the iPad?"

Myka’s gaze flicks to meet Helena's. Helena's eyebrows gather in the middle.

“I was really super busy. Next time I’ll call, I promise.” Myka threads a curl behind Christina’s ear.

“Did you go really far away again?"

“Not so far this time."

"I missed you.” Christina's eyes droop. She fixates on her jello and swirls the contents lazily with her spoon.

Myka’s chest aches at Christina’s words. She places a comforting hand on Christina’s shoulder. “I missed you, too, honey.”

“Mom, can I help cook?” Christina perks up, attention darting to Helena.

“Of course,” Helena says, with zest.

Christina hands Myka her bowl and slides of the chair. She drags her step stool next to the grill and climbs on top.

Helena helps Christina line the grill with foil, and they add various vegetables to the mix. Guests stop by to chat, requesting hot dogs or burgers and dote over the wonder that is Christina, the mini-chef. Claudia wafts by to ensure everyone’s doing ok and Liam drops in to say hello.

Once the grill items are thoroughly cooked and added to the table, Christina hops off her stool and grabs Myka’s hand, tugging her up and off her chair. “Come see the castle!"

Myka opens her mouth to decline, thinking she’d like a few moments to talk with Helena but knows from the look in Christina’s eyes she'll be hurt if she says no.

“Ok, kid. Let’s go.” Myka glances at Helena, her lips forming a crooked half-grin.

Helena beams at the pair. “I’ll just finish up here and join you."

Myka nods.

Christina drags Myka into the living room and stops just short of the castle. Several children emerge and scatter across the floor.

“See!” Christina drops Myka’s hand and climbs on top of the couch.

“It’s pretty big, yeah."

“We used all kinds of stuff. Mom and Aunt Claudia helped.” Christina's eyes move to a point beyond Myka.

Myka looks behind her.

Helena places a hand on Myka’s shoulder. “You’ll notice just about everything in the house is there, ensconced in bedsheets and blankets. And apparently castles these days come with entertainment centers built in."

Christina jumps off the couch and skirts around the edge. She lifts a blanket. “Mom, Myka, get in!"

Myka looks at Helena. Helena extends a hand. "After you, milady."

Myka grins. “Why, thank you.” She ducks under the blanket and scoots across the rug, finding herself sitting next to Erica. Erica’s eyes are glued to Claudia’s giant television, which makes up an entire wall of the castle. Crayons, construction paper, and scissors litter the floor.

Helena enters and settles next to Myka.

Christina immediately sets crayon to paper. Erica dives in too.

Myka looks at Helena, then the screen.

“What are you ladies watching?"

“Brave.” Christina and Erica say in unison.

“For the three hundred-thousandth time,” Helena adds.

“Mom, do we have tape?"

“I believe so, dear. Shall I fetch it?"

“Maybe.” Christina sidles up to Helena and whispers something in her ear.

Helena’s lips lift, forming a sly grin. “Would you like me to help?"

“Yeah.” Christina pulls Helena’s arm and scuttles back to the construction paper area. She whispers something to Erica and Erica’s face lights up.

Helena shuffles over and joins the girls, advising to Christina to line up two yellow sheets of paper next to each other. Erica mimics the action with two white sheets.

Myka finds her attention divided between activities on the floor, the movie on the screen, and random children entering and exiting the castle.

Christina and Erica draw peaked patterns and shapes. Helena assists in cutting them out. She advises one last slot be added then joins the two pieces of paper together.

Christina crawls over to Myka and stands next to her. “Aunt Claudia calls you princess, so I made you a crown!” She places her yellow paper construction on Myka’s head but finds it sits awkwardly on Myka’s bouncy curls.

“Thanks! Sorry my hair’s so big today.” Myka's eyes twinkle as she smiles at Christina. She wrestles the crown as far down as it will go.

Christina giggles.

Erica completes her crown and places it on Helena’s head. “Christina said you're the prince."

Helena smiles warmly at Erica and beams at Christina. “Thank you, dear."

Christina bounces on her knees, grinning wildly. “Can I take a picture?"

“Of course. Could we use your phone, Myka? It’s far superior to mine."

“Sure." Myka pulls her phone out of her pocket and taps camera mode. She hands it to Christina.

“Mom, go over there.” Christina waves a hand.

“Righty-ho.” Helena scoots next to Myka and leans in close.

Myka gapes at Helena, perplexed by her odd exclamation.

Christina snaps the picture then views at the result. She giggles.

Helena extends a hand. “Let’s have a look."

Christina hands the phone to Helena.

Myka bends toward Helena to view the picture. “My mouth is open! And I’m looking at you funny."

“You look adorable.” Helena kisses Myka on the cheek.

Myka grimaces at the photo. “Can we do it again? I’ll be ready this time."

Myka hands the phone back to Christina. Christina holds it at the ready.

Myka slides her arm around Helena and leans in, smiling at the camera.

Christina repeatedly taps the button then hands the phone back to Myka.

Myka holds out the phone and swipes through the photos for everyone to see.

“That one’s cute.” Christina points to the last photo where Helena and Myka both look toward the camera, smiling, heads touching.

“Christina! Mor’du!” Erica shouts fearfully, her attention again captured by the movie.

Christina hurries over to watch.

Myka swipes through the pictures again, her eye catching on the second one taken. The image shows Myka facing the camera, smiling, arm sliding across Helena’s shoulders. Helena gazes at Myka, eyes aglow, her expression unguarded, easily looking the most open and loving Myka’s ever seen.

Without thinking twice, Myka turns to Helena places a tender kiss on Helena’s lips. The connection sends a jolt of excitement down her spine, and she vaguely recalls being angry at Helena for some reason or another, but quickly drops the thought. Pulling back slowly, she remembers where she is and softly clears her throat.

Deciding she wants to view the photos again, she wakes her phone from standby mode with a tap.

Helena eyes the screen. “Is that the time?”

“Yeah, why?"

“I must get going. I have to work tonight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UP NEXT: Myka and Helena finally hash it out. Myka takes a trip for work to Denver.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Myka and Helena finally hash it out. Myka takes a trip for work to Denver.

—————

> _“…Yet there were these sudden, these unaccountable moments—being overtaken by love—everywhere—on top of busses, in crowded concert halls—sometimes on winter evenings with the skyscrapers floating, flickering above you…merging with the crowds, examining the faces.”_  
>  —Isabel Bolton

///////////////////////

“Work?” Myka snaps.

“Yes, work.”

"But it’s a holiday!"

“I know."

“You can't work on a holiday.” Myka slips a hand over Helena’s and curls her fingers around the edges.

“Did you not tell Liam you worked today?"

“I did. But that’s different."

“Different how?” Helena pulls her hand from Myka's and crosses her arms over her chest.

Myka nervously bites her bottom lip, realizing she’s just implied her job is more important than Helena’s. “I-I would have gotten here earlier if I’d known. I thought you’d be here for the fireworks.”

Helena’s arms slide apart. “I apologize. I would stay if I had the choice.”

"I’ll walk with you to work.” Myka takes hold of Helena’s hand again, this time intertwining their fingers.

“You should stay. It’s your first 4th of July in New York. And the view from Claudia's is quite spectacular."

“Helena, please.” Myka’s grip tightens on Helena’s hand.

Helena's eyes reluctantly soften under the influence of Myka's plaintive gaze. “Alright.”

Helena reaches across Myka’s lap and tugs on Christina’s ankle. “Come say goodbye to your mother."

Christina points to the TV. “But the stone thingy’s gonna fall on Mor’du and turn him into a prince!”

Helena glances toward the movie and gently smirks. “This is rather a pivotal moment of the film. At least say goodbye to Myka."

“Bye, Myka!” Christina hastily waves in Myka’s direction.

“Thanks for the crown!” Myka says cheerfully.

“You’re welcome."

“Mind Aunt Claudia,” Helena warns.

“I will.” Christina’s eyes remain glued to the screen. She gently kicks her legs and gasps as Mor’du the bear is crushed by a falling menhir.

Helena stares affectionately at Christina and emits a resigned sigh. “I guess that’s it then. Let’s find Claudia and we’ll be on our way.” She crawls to the edge of the tent and pulls back a flap. “After you."

Myka shuffles on her knees and smiles graciously at Helena as she exits.

Helena attempts to rise but a small boy scuttles past and into the tent, causing her to lose her balance. Myka chuckles and extends a hand. Helena accepts, groaning as she stands. “I may be getting too to old play ‘castle.’"

Myka snickers and squeezes Helena’s hand.

Helena surveys the room and nods towards the kitchen. “Claudia’s just there."

The pair makes their way through the crowd and say their goodbyes to Claudia. Claudia excitedly snaps a photo of the two in their crowns. She pinches Helena’s cheeks and Helena swats her away. Myka locates her bag and meets Helena at the door. They take one last look at the party then exit into the hall.

Helena hits the elevator call button, and her eyes flick up, focusing on Myka’s forehead. “Shall we wear these out into the night?"

Myka lifts a hand and pats her head, mouth forming a lopsided half-smile as she feels paper. "I already forgot. If it was New Year’s Eve, maybe, but not tonight.” She gently removes the crown and folds it flat, then secures it in her tote. “Do you want me to take yours?"

“That’d be lovely. Thanks.” Helena removes her crown and hands it to Myka.

The elevator arrives and two step in. Helena pushes the button to the ground floor and stations herself in a corner, clasping her hands in front of her. Myka stands a pace away and glances at Helena. Helena grins graciously as their eyes meet. Myka returns the grin then lowers her eyes. The silence between them thickens as the car descends.

The doors open and Helena steps briskly into the lobby, but pauses mid-way through. She turns to face Myka. “Are you sure you won’t stay for the fireworks?"

“Maybe I’ll come back.”

Helena spins forward and continues walking. Myka hurries to catch up. Both say goodnight to the doorman and exit onto the street.

They travel north, then turn west after two short blocks. Helena trudges along as if on autopilot, eyes angled down. Myka side-eyes Helena and noting her heavy brow, tries to think of a gentle way to begin the conversation knows they need to have.

“Helena?” Myka speaks up as they pause due to traffic on a major street.

Helena walks off ahead as soon as the walk sign changes.

Myka hustles to catch up. “Helena, wait. We need to talk."

Helena glances back but continues walking at a brisk pace. A few blocks later she’s again halted by a red light at a major intersection.

Myka lays a hand on Helena’s shoulder and circles in front of her. Her chest rapidly rises and falls as she attempts to catch her breath. “Helena, we can work through this.”

Helena’s eyes flick over Myka’s shoulder to the walk sign. She moves forcibly past Myka and crosses the street. Myka twists, allowing Helena to pass, then turns to walk in tandem.

Helena angles her head toward Myka but does not look at her. “I meant what I said the other night. Distance yourself from me as much as possible."

“I’m not going to do that.” Myka matches Helena’s stride.

“You should.” Helena walks faster. Myka jogs to catch up. They cross an intersection and find themselves crossing a small park.

“Helena, stop. Why won’t you let me help?” Myka grabs Helena’s upper arm and aggressively pulls her to the side, out of the flow of foot traffic.

Helena shrugs out of Myka's grasp, her arm slipping easily through Myka’s fingers due to her overheated, perspiration-laden skin. She steps back and meets Myka’s gaze, eyes glimmering with a dark wildness. “Look at me, Myka. Take a good, hard look at the state I’m in and think to yourself, 'is this person really worth my time?’ A person who nearly abandoned you at a holiday party, who couldn't manage a singular proper date, who could easily ruin your career. You deserve better. Much better."

“Shouldn’t I be the judge of that?” Myka’s tone deepens as she glares at Helena, arms now crossed, incensed to be hearing the same line over again.

“Of course, you do. All I ask is that you consider all of the facts.” Helena steps in close and reaches out to cup Myka’s jaw. She runs a thumb gently over Myka’s cheek and steadfastly holds on to Myka’s indignant glare.

"Your moon waxes, Myka, while my moon wanes. Our phases are out of sync; we inhabit disparate quadrants of the heavens. And tonight, you are the brilliant show of light expanding exponentially in the sky while I’m the detritus left falling to earth."

Myka plucks Helena's hand from her jaw and clutches it between both of her own. “But together, we’re those fireworks combusting; the moon hovering at its peak, neither rising nor falling. Can’t you see that?”

Helena parts her lips as if to speak, but no words follow.

“And where’s all this poetry coming from, anyway?” Myka releases Helena’s hand and takes a small step back.

“I can be poetic when prompted.”

“I’d rather you be honest."

“What do you mean?” Helena stiffens.

Myka huffs out a breath and glares at Helena, allowing herself a short moment to contain her rising ire.

“Why did Giselle visit you at work."

Helena steps back. “How did you—"

“Ladies, can you spare a dollar?” Out of nowhere, and overly loud, raspy male voice interrupts.

Helena swings toward the sound and narrows her eyes. “What?"

“Can you spare any change?” The man holds out his palm.

“Bugger off.” Helena dismissively waves a hand.

“Even a dime would help.”

“I said, go away.” Helena moves toward the man and stands shielding Myka, hands on hips.

“No need to get testy, lady.” The man raises his hands and turns to leave, muttering a barely audible, “Fuckin’ dyke."

“What did you just say?”

The man looks over his shoulder at Helena. “I said, fuckin’ dyke."

Helena charges forward.

Myka lunges toward Helena and desperately grabs hold of Helena's shoulder. She yanks Helena behind her and digs through her pocket.

“Myka, don’t.” Helena stomps forward, but Myka raises a hand to stop her. She pulls a few bills out and offers them to the man. “Here’s three dollars. Now go."

The man takes the money and flashes Myka a bawdy grin. “You be the girl, huh, sweetheart?"

“The what?” Myka stiffens and steps closer to Helena.

“One of youse got to be the girl, right? My money’s on you.” He waves the dollars at Myka then leers at Helena. “Cos that one's gonna hit me. She's the man."

Myka’s lips form a hard smile. “Ok, whatever. We’re done here. Leave, now."

“You ain’t got more than three dollars, sweetie? It bein’ a holiday an' all?."

Myka feels her hands clenching. “ _I’m_ going to hit you if you don’t leave us alone. And you don’t want to be hit by a girl, do you?"

“No ma’am.” He tips an invisible hat. “You two have a nice fight, now."

Helena sneers at the man as he walks away. “Myka that’s the oldest trick in the book, extorting people in the middle of a crisis."

“Whatever. He’s gone. That’s all that matters.” Myka glares at the back of Helena’s head. “Giselle, Helena. Why did Giselle visit you at work."

Helena’s shoulders tense and she reluctantly turns towards Myka.

“I overheard your coworkers talking about her.”

Helena wets her lips but doesn’t speak.

"They said I’m hotter by the way.” Myka’s curls billow due to a gust of heated July wind as if on cue.

Helena's lips rise into a besotted grin. “You certainly are.”

Myka cocks her head and gives a forced smile. “Giselle?"

Helena’s grin flattens. “She's helping with my visa."

“Why ask her and not me?"

“She handled the paperwork. She should be able to fix what’s wrong. You needn’t be involved—"

“But another set of eyes would be helpful, wouldn’t they?"

“Perhaps."

“Why won’t you let me in Helena?"

“In to what, Myka? I have no home, no clear path. And my welcome in this country is about to expire. Why would you want to be brought into this…this limbo?"

“I’m in love with you, that's why.” Sweat drips off Myka's brow as her heart beats a mile a minute.

“Well, you shouldn’t be—”

“Stop. Just—” Myka holds up a hand and pulls her phone from her pocket. She quickly scrolls through her photos and locates the image showing Helena beaming at her with all of the affection in the world. She thrusts the phone in front of Helena and points to her likeness.

“This is from an hour ago Helena. An _hour_ ago. Do you see the way you’re looking at me? Don’t act like I can’t see that. I’ve seen your capacity for love and this is what it looks like, especially when you let your intelligence and lust for life show through."

Helena glides a tentative finger over her likeness on the screen. She closes her eyes and lowers her chin.

Myka gingerly threads a lock of hair behind Helena’s ear. She lets her touch trail down slope of Helena's neck then rake over the rise of her shoulder, gently dropping down to trace the contours of her arm. Her fingers come to rest by lacing through Helena's.

“You’ve got a lot going on right now, and I’m trying my best not to take things personally, but you can't deny this.” She lifts Helena’s hand and places it palm down over her racing heart.

“I know we have to take things day by day. I didn’t come to New York for the same thing I had in Chicago. I wanted something else, something different, something more. And then I found you.”

Helena’s eyes flick up to meet Myka’s. “Myka—"

Myka thrusts her fingers over Helena’s lips. “Right now I need you to listen and do what I say, ok? Because if I don’t say this now, I’m not sure I’ll say it at all."

Helena nods meekly.

“I’m going to take a step back. You need to tell Claudia about the trial. And you need time to think about us. I want to be with you Helena, I _really_ do. And I know this can work. But I can’t make it work on my own. I need you to want it, too."

Myka blows out a shaky breath. “And I promise, no surprise visits at work. No texts and calls. No updates from Claudia."

Myka feels her insides quivering, but she pushes on. “You know where I am. Find me when you’re ready to talk."

Helena stares incredulously at Myka, hands trembling as she clutches them in front of her stomach.

“But don’t take too long, ok?” Myka's eyes glass over. She blinks back potential tears.

Helena steps forward and slides a jittery hand across Myka’s jaw, letting her fingers thread through Myka's hair. She pulls Myka into a insistent, lingering kiss, a kiss lying somewhere between fervent and restless; a goodbye for now broadcasting a promise of resolve.

Myka's frayed nerves momentarily calm as their lips part. She closes her eyes to savor the feel of fingertips grazing across her cheek as Helena pulls back.

“You should get to work before I lose it right in front of you, ok?” Myka takes hold of Helena's hands and lowers her eyes.

Helena lifts Myka’s hand to her chest and places it palm down over her heart, mimicking Myka’s earlier action.

The heavy thump pumping emphatically within Helena’s chest fills Myka's consciousness and a shaky, bright grin grows to cover her face. She looks up to meet Helena’s gaze and finds it brimming with the same profound affection Helena wore earlier in the photo.

Helena releases Myka’s hand and scans the street, then darts off, nimbly dodging cars across four lanes of traffic.

Myka watches Helena disappear into the distance, hand over mouth, tears dripping down her face, completely oblivious to the grand spectacle of fireworks blaring in the distance.

A few moments later, her trance is broken by a voice.

“Hey lady, you ok?”

Myka looks to her side and sees a teenage boy wearing an oversized basketball jersey standing slightly too close to her. Her eyes flick over his shoulder, and she notes several basketball courts in the distance, one containing a gang of youths pressed against the fence watching the scene play out.

“Did the fireworks scare you?"

“No…I’m…It’s just been a stressful day.” Myka wipes the tears from her eyes and sniffs deeply to clear her nose.

“I can walk you home if you want."

Myka’s lips lift on one side as she glances at the boy, impressed by his chutzpah, momentarily sorry to have let him down. “Thanks, kid, but I can manage. Go join your friends. Happy 4th of July.”

“I’ll be here for a while, find me if you change your mind."

The boy runs back to his friends and waves to Myka before entering the court. Myka weakly raises a hand in return then looks up, catching the very top of the fireworks exploding over the East River.

At the sound of a high pitched squeal, her eyes dart toward children playing in the spray of an open fire hydrant nearby. How could she have missed that when they walked over here, she thinks. She looks to her right and notices a group of adults lounging in lawn chairs on the basketball courts, watching the show of lights in the sky to the east.

She breathes in deeply through her mouth and lets the air escape slowly out her nose, admitting to herself the city’s obviously not going to let her drown in her own misery tonight. Gravitating toward the lawn chairs, she leans against the chainlink fence and takes in the holiday spectacle in its entirety before heading home.

\----------------

Myka spends the next week burying herself in work, both at the gallery and in the studio. She fills idle moments with reading, hoping to lose herself in someone else’s plot. To avoid all things Helena related, she vows not to walk past Helena's hotel or even venture east toward the Lower East Side at all.

She’s successful until about Thursday, at which point the urge to contact Helena overwhelms her. She pulls up Helena’s number and stares at the phone for five minutes before convincing herself to call Abigail instead. Abigail answers and talks Myka down, reminding her it’s been less than a week, reassuring her that Helena will call, urging her to be patient. And to help Myka cope, Abigail offers to visit over the weekend. Myka gladly accepts.

Abigail arrives Saturday and immediately whisks Myka off to dinner and drinks with friends. She's planned Myka's entire weekend and the two bounce from brunch to museums to dinners to shows with little room for moping in-between.

Before falling asleep Monday evening, Myka reviews the past few days and realizes how little she’s been social since the fire. She decides it’s been nice to see old friends and catch up on happenings around town. Abigail’s certainly lifted her spirits, and she’s thankful to have a loyal friend nearby. She only once broke down in a panic over Helena and Abigail was quick to assuage her fears, explaining Helena coming clean to Claudia would undeniably cause a rift and it may take some time for the dust to settle. She assured Myka Helena knows she’s there to help if need be. And when the drama dies down, she’s certain Helena will be in touch.

The minute Abigail leaves Tuesday morning, Myka’s thoughts fill with Helena. She tries to shake it off, but can’t help glancing up The Bowery to catch a brief glimpse of Helena’s hotel. Staring fixedly at the frosted while skyscraper, she anxiously hopes giving her space was the right decision.

Later that day, Myka learns she’ll be heading to Denver over the weekend to view a potential purchase. She nearly groans out loud at the sound of the city, thinking if she’s going all the way out there she’ll have to visit her family, and visiting her family is the last thing she wants to do right now. While not mandatory, she knows she’s already put it off for too long and thinks it’d be best to get it over with while having other matters to attend to.

Forgoing direct contact with her parents, she emails her sister and mentions she’ll be in Denver for work over the weekend. Tracy responds excitedly, which is atypical, and states if she comes to visit she’ll arrange a dinner with their parents at her house on Saturday. Myka agrees, thinking seeing her family will certainly keep her mind off of Helena.

She arrives in Denver late Friday night. Saturday morning after breakfast, she hops in her rental car and speeds off towards her meeting. As she hits the interstate, the Rocky Mountains come into view, and High Plains landscape fills her mind. Having grown up in the shadow of the mountains she finds the sight familiar and comforting but somewhat unsettling at the same time. Maybe it’s the light, which is different out here, or the air, which is thinner. Turning off the highway, she enters the vast linearity of the Denver street grid, and mentally compares it to New York. The terrain is monotonously flat and the grid, somehow more vast; the architecture low rise, especially in comparison to the verticality of crowded Manhattan. And as she approaches the neighborhood she’s visiting, the emptier the streets feel.

To prepare for her meeting, she mulls over the details she knows about the antiquity she’ll be viewing. While not very old, it is unique: a window created by Tiffany and Company specifically for the Moffat Mansion, built in 1910 for railroad magnate David Moffat. The window was removed when the mansion was torn down but has been missing for decades. This dealer says he’s in possession of the original window but Myka feels skeptical as the information he provided was not of high quality. Yet the Calder-Frederic partnership’s curiosity was piqued enough to send her out.

She arrives at a nondescript warehouse in a predominantly industrial area and parks next to the building. She’s immediately greeted by a disheveled youth with a faux-hawk wearing a Slipknot t-shirt. He ushers her through a garage door and introduces her to “the boss,” middle-aged man with a beer belly and a comb-over who leers as he gives Myka a once over.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

The man’s greasy, grimy tone immediately grates on Myka’s nerves. She quickly scans the room for alternate exits. “I thought there’d be more buyers present."

“Just you, honey. The other guy….the first one my list? I heard he's in jail or somethin'. So I got in touch with this Mrs. Frederricks.”

“Frederic,” Myka bluntly corrects, gritting her teeth to keep her expression as neutral as possible, thinking Macpherson must have been first on the list. “So where’s the window?"

“Over here,” the assistant says from across the room. He yanks a blue tarp off of a large item leaning up against the wall.

Myka snaps a picture, then walks closer to inspect the item in detail. “So you just found this here, huh?"

“Something like that,” the “boss" answers.

“Is it stolen?” Myka pokes a piece or rotten wood with a pen.

“No. Who do ya think you’re dealin’ with, honey? I’m a respected—"

“I’ve never heard of you. You’re just some schlubby guy. So's your friend.” Myka nods to the faux-hawked man.

“Now listen, lady—"

“It’s not in great shape, the window. And your price is too high. I'll talk to my people and get back to you.” Myka glares sternly at the “boss” man and notes sweat gathering on his brow.

“I got another buyer lined up, so if ya want it, ya better take it now.”

“Go ahead. Sell it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other appointments today.” Myka strides confidently toward the door.

“Now, wait just a minute!"

Myka turns and places her hands on her hips. She eyes the man firmly. “You said I’m the first person to see this.”

“I-I got others waiting."

Myka shakes her head. “Even you were telling the truth; no one’s going to give you anything near what you’re asking. I’ll be in touch in the morning.”

She swiftly exits the building and breaks into a light trot toward her car. Peeling out of the parking lot, she drives as fast as possible toward the center of town but pulls over once she’s put enough distance between herself and the building.

She nervously checks her rearview mirror and lets out a weighted breath, relieved she wasn’t followed. Schlubby guys in sketchy warehouses are not what she signed up for, she thinks. Irene Frederic being number two after MacPherson on said schlubby guy’s list? Also not what she signed up for. Something about this whole scenario seems off. For all she knows that window _is_ stolen goods and stolen goods remind her of Helena. And she’s desperately trying not to think about Helena.

She closes her eyes tightly and breathes in a deep, cleansing breath. Call Vanessa, she tells herself. Just call Vanessa. Vanessa will sort this out. She starts the engine and heads back to the hotel.

An hour later, after consulting with the gallery, her fears have lessened. Vanessa explains that there are times when they purchase items with questionable ownership from unreliable sources to remove them from harms way. The pieces are cleaned and restored while research is performed to locate the rightful owners. If none are identified, the piece can be added to their collection and shown to the public or donated to a local museum for tax purposes. Either way, the item is better off in their hands than rotting in a warehouse. So if Myka thinks the work is not a fake, they will consider the sale.

Post conversation, she wonders if her reaction to this transaction was biased from the start due to her association with Helena. She rubs the bridge of her nose and takes in a deep breath, realizing she can’t walk into every situation automatically thinking something is off. In this case, something was off, but she needs to remind herself she's the good guy, the one solving mysteries, the one saving the day.

Her stomach rumbles, and it occurs to her she hasn’t eaten since breakfast. She gathers her things and decides to visit an old haunt for lunch.

She drives past the diner she frequented during college, but it’s no longer in business. In fact, the whole neighborhood has changed beyond recognition. Feeling defeated, she consults her phone and locates the nearest coffee shop. She parks a block away, and as she walks through the once familiar neighborhood, her mind fills with memories of a time long gone.

She orders a sandwich and a latte and settles at a table. Pulling out her laptop, she smirks as she notes she's mimicking the crowd around her, all of which look to be ten years younger, tapping away at their keyboards, writing papers. She smiles to herself, thinking how much she’s grown since her days as a student in this town, then begins writing up her meeting to email before heading to her sister’s later this afternoon.

The thought of dinner tonight makes her anxious, as does recounting her meeting this morning. She adds Helena to the mix as she stares at her sandwich, and suddenly she’s lost her appetite. Finishing up her email, she drinks the remains of her coffee and gets her sandwich to go. She checks the time then hops in the car and decides to take a quick drive through the mountains, praying the scenery will help to clear her mind before dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES: A few more "trying to get better at" things this time around (thanks to those of you who've given me a nudge!), one is letting dialog speak for itself (without too much exposition) and working on having less "floating body parts," though to be honest I'm still wrapping my head around that one. I get the obvious things but am now thinking about everything maybe a little too hard. Hoping it gets more obvious as time goes on.
> 
> ALSO: The missing stained glass window is a real thing (see [here](http://blogs.denverpost.com/library/2015/03/25/where-is-denvers-remarkable-tiffany-stained-glass-window/10238/#disqus_thread).)
> 
> NEXT UP: Myka visits her family and learns a thing or two about explaining the phenomenon that is Helena Wells and her daughter.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Myka visits her family and learns a thing or two about explaining the phenomenon that is Helena Wells and her daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed posting - this week has been a bear and I've been a little under the weather. Hoping there aren't too many typos here but my brain is kind of mush and I wanted to get something up sooner rather then later.
> 
> But a few notes - this chapter dives into Myka's family dynamics a bit, just to give a sense of where she's coming from. I also wanted to allow more time in general for Helena to pull herself together. Rest assured she'll be back in full force in the next chapter. Also if you read this chapter over on Tumblr first, I made a few major edits but the gist is still the same.

—————————

> _“The true New Yorker secretly believes that people living anywhere else have to be, in some sense, kidding.”_  
>  -John Updike 

\----------------

Myka drives aimlessly, letting the incessant curves of the road fill her consciousness. Mountain drives were something she used to do often to escape the stresses of life, and even now she finds the rise and fall of the landscape lulls her into a comforting calm. As she rounds a peak, she realizes she's not sure how long she’s been driving, and abruptly pulls off into a scenic overlook. She sinks back in her seat and gazes lazily into the hazy blue sky, enamored by the depth of its color and vastness of scope. Deciding it'd be prudent to stretch her legs, she steps out of the car and walks over to the railing rimming a sharp drop. As the cool mountain air hits her skin, a shiver runs down her spine, and she wishes she'd brought a jacket. But the longer she stares out into the rugged peaks and valleys spreading out into infinity, the more invigorated she feels.

In the distance she spies a few small houses and casually entertains the idea of escaping from everything by moving to the middle of nowhere, becoming a recluse, and painting Colorado landscapes to make a living. Maybe she could bring Helena with her to hide her from her troubles. But with Helena comes Christina, and she wouldn’t want to take Christina away from everything she's ever known, dropping her in the bastion of conservatism that is rural Colorado. She lets out a resigned sigh and admits this plan is not really viable. For now.

She checks the time and notices there's no cell phone reception. No reception means no GPS, and she’s not sure how far away she is from Tracy's. Reluctantly, she decides she should get moving and head toward Colorado Springs.

A half an hour later, she texts her sister, saying she'll be late for dinner due to rush hour traffic, thinking it’s a decent excuse, even on a Sunday, especially if there’s a game in town. Downtown is about an hour from Denver, and Tracy's house is in the suburbs, adding several minutes to the commute.

As she pulls into the driveway, she finds Tracy waiting for her, her eight-month-old baby in hand.

“Myka, hi!” Tracy greets, a little too brightly, and strides forward to meet Myka.

“H-hi. Is that Aunt Marjorie and Uncle Ted’s car?” Myra says while eyeing the car parked next to hers.

“Yeah. Mom invited them.” Tracy leans closer and lowers her voice. "I came out to warn you."

Myka fights back a frown, thinking tonight could prove worse than her encounter earlier today.

“I’m really glad to see you!” Tracy says and restlessly bounces the baby up and down.

Myka’s head bobs in time to the baby before meeting Tracy’s gaze. “Where’s all this enthusiasm coming from, Trace? We’ve barely spoken since little Kevin was born.”

“Honestly? I’m going totally nuts. All anyone ever talks about around here is little Kevin. Little Kevin this, little Kevin that...it's like I don't even exist! 'Did you see on TV where that stroller isn’t safe?' 'I read on the internet you shouldn’t use that formula.’ ‘Back in my day we never…’ OH, and, _and-_ 'You two should have another one soon, maybe you'll get a girl.' I’m so over it. I mean I love the little guy to death, but I am with him twenty-four seven."

Of course, Tracy would make this visit all about her somehow, Myka thinks while flashing little Kevin silly smile. Little Kevin's eyes seem to focus on Myka, and a sloppy, gummy grin takes over his face, drool dribbling down the side of his chin. Myka feels a pang of warmth at the exchange, which quickly morphs to mild disgust at the sight of Tracy wiping the slobber off with the sleeve of her shirt.

“And Dad? Dad’s _still_ over the friggin’ moon I had a boy. He’s already planning for him to take over the bookshop."

Myka wafts back as Tracy waves her spit covered sleeve in her direction. She grabs Myka's shirt tugs on it, stretching up to speak at Myka's eye level.

"You’ll talk about something else, right? You don’t even like kids.”

Myka swallows as she meets Tracy’s desperate gaze. She briefly considers hopping in the car and peeling out of the driveway like this morning, but drops the thought as she spies her mother, Jeannie, and her Aunt Marjorie emerging from the house.

Tracy backs off, and Myka steels herself for what's to come.

“Myka, honey. You finally made it!” Jeannie opens her arms wide and envelops Myka in an affectionate hug.

“Hi, Mom,” Myka says with a light enthusiasm. As she returns the hug, the thought crosses her mind that her mother's hair looks slightly grayer than she remembers.

Jeannie takes a step back. Aunt Marjorie moves forward.

“Myka, honey, it’s been too long.” She hugs Myka weakly then fingers the fabric of Myka’s sleeve. “Just look at you, all smart in your vest and slacks. Is that silk? And those shoes! I feel underdressed."

Myka looks down at her light gray outfit then back up at her Aunt. She thought her day was going to be more like Boston, more formal, so she dressed as professionally as possible. “It’s just cotton, but tailored. I came straight from work."

“Oh, that’s right. Your Mom said you sell fancy art in a shop in New York, like those uppity ones in Aspen."

Myka opens her mouth to pontificate but quickly decides the effort is futile. “Actually, lately, I’ve been working with antiquities."

“Antiques! I love antiques. Let me know if you come across any bargains." Aunt Marjorie winks suggestively.

Myka cringes. “ _Antiquities_ not—"

“You didn’t tell us that, Myka. Did you get a new job?” Jeannie eyes Myka critically, looking slightly embarrassed to have not known this information.

“Same job, different…inventory. In fact, I’m here to see a stained glass window from the old—"

“ _Myka._ ”

Myka stiffens at the authoritative sound of her name being called from a distance. Her eyes fill with apprehension at the sight of her father, Warren, now standing next to her mother.

“Dad.”

Myka's father's mouth downturns sharply as he looks her up and down. “What’s with the clothes? It’s just dinner at your sister's."

“I came right after work."

“Work?” Warren scoffs. “They make you dress like that?"

“No,” Myka says curtly, desperately holding her tongue, knowing he’s just trying to reel her into an elaborate exchange.

Tracy scuttles next to Myka and glares in solidarity. “She looks nice, Dad,”

Warren narrows his eyes. “You look like one of those corporate blowhards that keep trying to buy my shop. How much did that getup cost you?

Myka grits her teeth. "If you're worried about money, I'll pay you back for that check you sent me—"

"What happened to my pretty little girl and her bright dresses?"

“My dresses burned in the fire, Dad. Remember?"

“Maaaybe we should all go in and have some snacks?” Tracy grabs Myka’s arm and pulls her toward the house. As they near the front door, Myka whispers into Tracy’s ear “What's up with him?"

"The shop’s not doing well."

“Who wants to buy it?"

“I don’t know. Some focus group or something stopped by. Mom said they want to put a chain store there to 'better serve the neighborhood.' He might just be blowing things out of proportion as usual."

“Mom never told me that."

“You never talk to Mom."

“I do. Just not lately.” Myka sighs, thinking two minutes into the evening her guard is already up.

Myka and Tracy enter the living room where Tracy’s husband Kevin and Uncle Ted are sitting.

Kevin stands instantly. “Myka, nice to see you! How’s things?”

“Fine,” Myka answers flatly. She crosses her arms and scowls toward the front door.

Kevin glances nervously at Tracy. Tracy rolls her eyes while silently mouthing "Dad." She holds out the baby. "Here, take him while I get get the table ready."

“I’ll help," Myka offers.

“Myka, sit. You’re the guest,” Jeannie says from the doorway, the lilt of her words sounding somewhat detached from everything.

“I’ll come along,” Marjorie chirps with an inappropriate amount of bubbly cheer. All of the women except Myka disappear into the kitchen.

Kevin sits on the sofa next to Uncle Ted, holding little Kevin. Myka chooses the small wooden armchair close to the kitchen and sits stiffly, defensively crossing her legs, clasping her hands on her knees. Warren takes the overstuffed lounge chair near the window. He eyes Myka circumspectly. Myka indignantly looks away.

“Warren, come carve the turkey,” Jeannie bellows.

“Don't yell,” Warren croaks and groans with annoyance while struggling to rise out of the ultra soft chair.

"There's a turkey?" Myka asks Kevin.

Kevin shrugs.

As Warren exits, Myka and Kevin visibly relax. Little Kevin makes gurgling noises and then starts to fuss. Kevin's face pinches as he pulls back the waistband of little Kevin’s diaper. “Time for a change, dude. I’ll be right back.”

Myka watches Kevin leave the room. She turns toward Uncle Ted and flashes a genial smile. “How are you, Uncle Ted?"

“Hm?” Uncle Ted’s brows rise slowly to an almost comical height as he acknowledges Myka’s presence.

“How are things with you and Aunt Marjorie?” Myka raises her volume a notch and enunciates clearly.

“Just fine, dear.”

“Are you going on vacation this summer?"

“Your Aunt wants to go to that Mall of America again."

“Where do you want to go?"

“Wherever your Aunt wants to go is fine with me."

Myka continues smiling but fails to think of another topic of conversation.

As the pair sits for several minutes in a slightly awkward silence, Myka's anxiety over the evening grows ever deeper. She unnervingly overhears her mother and father arguing about carving the turkey while Aunt Marjorie lectures Tracy on the “proper" way to make candied yams.

Kevin returns. “Tracy says dinner’s ready."

Myka stands. “I-I’m just going to use the restroom. I’ll be right there."

Myka swiftly treads up the stairs, deciding to use the upstairs bathroom for more privacy. She pulls the door closed then paces toward the window and pulls out her phone.

Her first thought is to call Helena, but she's not sure why. Helena wouldn't know what it’s like to experience this type of situation. Plus it’s not like she’d pick up, anyway. So once again, Abigail to the rescue.

She texts first.

_-At my sister’s. About to sit down for dinner. Locked in the bathroom. Not sure I can do this._

Abigail calls seconds later as if she’d been waiting all day for Myka to get in touch. Myra immediately picks up.

"You’ll be fine. It’s only a few hours. Suck it up for now and maybe you can skip Christmas."

“But my Mom’s nosey sister is here, too. And my Dad's already been a jerk about my clothes. I forgot to change after work." Myka restlessly smooths down her vest.

“Wait, he’s mad because you look professional?"

“He said I look like a corporate blowhard."

Abigail laughs. “I highly doubt that. You always look always refined, never a cog in the machine."

“Thanks, Abs." Myka exhales, feeling placated for the moment.

"Look, just keep a low profile. Let them talk about themselves. Talk about your sister's kid."

“She said she doesn’t want to talk about her kid."

“I bet your Mom and your Aunt do."

“But I don’t know how to talk about her kid."

“Then don’t. Talk about work. That’s safe, right?"

“They don’t really understand what I do."

Abigail pauses. "Ok, fine. Try not to talk at all."

Myka hears her name being called from the bottom of the stairs.

“I gotta go. Thanks a million, Abs."

“Call me later if you need me."

"I just might." Myka hangs up and hurries down the stairs.

As she joins the table, all eyes are on her. She waves her phone and pulls out a chair. “Sorry, work call.”

“So what brought you to Denver, Myka?” Kevin asks innocently while passing the mashed potatoes.

Here we go, Myka thinks. "A Tiffany stained glass window from an old mansion. It's been missing for years but turned up in a warehouse recently. The gallery I work for might buy it."

"I thought your Mom said you sold paintings," Warren says brusquely.

“I’ve sold my own paintings. But at work I handle all kinds of contemporary art. And lately, the gallery's pursuing antiquities."

"Antiques?" Warren grumbles.

“ _Antiquities,_ ” Myka corrects.

"What's the difference?"

Myka gives the matter a moment of thought. "Think, rare books, as opposed to old ones."

"Ahhhh. Books. You buy books?"

"No books. Not that I know of."

"But you could, right? That gallery of yours, they could buy my books." Warren's eyes sparkle with a hint of opportunity.

Myka’s spirits deflate. She thought for a second he was actually listening to her. Obviously not. “I don't make suggestions; I’m just the buyer. I do research; someone else finds the things in the first place."

“Well if you’re just a 'buyer' then you should come help me with the shop. Help get it out of the hole."

"I'm not just a buyer. I’m also the registrar. Like at my job in Chicago. Remember?" Myka struggles to keep her tone even and calm.

Warren’s eyebrows raise. “I remember. When you were with Sam. How is he?"

“He’s fine. Still in Iowa. Still teaching." Great, Myka thinks. This conversation again.

“You never shoulda let that one go, Myka. He was a keeper.” Warren glares accusingly while pointing his fork.

“Maybe she’s seeing someone new? You got someone new, honey?” Aunt Marjorie chimes in airily, obviously attempting to lighten the mood.

“As a matter of fact, there is," Myka says sharply. She clenches her jaw.

“Well, tell us about him.” Aunt Marjorie sits up taller as if to listen better.

Myka feels all eyes on her again and tenses. She suddenly wishes she'd kept her mouth shut. “T-the whole things’s pretty new. I’d rather not jinx it."

“He must be a _real_ jem, then."

“Warren..." Jeannie says, her tone full of caution.

Warren leans back in his chair and eyes Myka with a scowl. “I bet he’s some sorta of hoity-toity New York Wall Street money type if he’s got you dressing like that.” He nods at Myka's vest.

Myka balks. “ _I’m_ dressing me like this. _Me_. Not some guy." Her voice raises in volume as she points to her chest with a finger.

"I think she looks nice," Jeannie says confidently.

"So do I," Tracy adds.

Little Kevin starts to cry. Big Kevin flies a spoonful of food into his mouth like an airplane, but little Kevin will not be consoled.

"Now see what you did?" Warren grumbles, glaring directly at Myka.

Myka glowers back, nostrils flaring as she tries to control her rising anger.

“Warren…” Jeannie warns again.

“What?” Warren grunts and tucks aggressively into his meal.

“Dad, you’re the worst.” Tracy huffs.

Myka abruptly stands up and leaves the room.

Jeanne follows.

Myka paces back and forth in the living room. “I can’t do this. He’s too much."

“Just come and sit. He’ll simmer down."

“But he's going to look at me with those eyes.” Myka freezes and mimics Warren’s glower-y grimace to a T.

Jeannie gives a gentle smile and places a comforting hand on Myka’s upper arm. “Oh honey, he just hates that you’re so far away.”

“ _He’s_ the reason I’m so far away.” Myka throws her hands in the air and continues pacing.

Jeannie halts Myka mid-stride. “I think he thought, after the accident and all...well, he thought you’d come home."

Myka winces. “Home? Why would I...I’ve worked so hard to get where I am, and in a tough city like New York…why can’t he see how far I’ve come, how well I’m doing?"

“He does, dear. We all do. He just—"

“Wants me to be his 'little girl.’ He thinks someday I'll magically fall in line with whatever fantasy life he dreamed up for me when I was a kid. He can’t see me for who I am, now."

Jeannie frowns. “You’re being a little hard on your Dad."

“No, Mom, It’s true. He’s so stubborn—"

“You’re both stubborn. That’s the problem."

Myka grimaces at the comparison.

“Let's just get through the next hour or so and everything will be fine.” Jeannie’s voice shifts to a lighter tone.

Myka feels a sharp prick of deja vu over the fact her mother just gave her the same advice as Abigail. “Mom, you know that’s not true."

“Just come and eat. Don’t let him ruin the evening. Let me be happy you’re here.” Jeannie runs a hand reassuringly up and down Myka’s arm while broadcasting that all too familiar motherly grin, the one that always pulls Myka her out of her grumpy haze.

“It’s nice to see you too, Mom.” Myka’s dark mood lightens and she returns her Mom’s warmth by giving her a hug.

They enter the dining room together. Warren opens his mouth to speak, but Jeannie throws him a look that halts him in his tracks.

“Tracy, why don’t you tell Myka about little Kevin since she hasn’t seen him since he was born,” Jeannie suggests.

Tracy rolls her eyes at Myka and turns defeatedly to Jeannie.

Jeannie grimaces. “Fine. I’ll start…"

The conversation hovers over little Kevin and meanders to Aunt Marjorie’s vacation, then explores the intricacies of Jeanne’s quilt club, ending with a brief description of Kevin’s promotion at work. Myka helps clear the table, and Aunt Marjorie and Uncle Ted take their leave. Little Kevin is put down for a nap and Warren and Kevin populate the living room to watch the Broncos play the Steelers.

Jeanne, Tracy, and Myka sit at the table sipping freshly brewed coffee.

“You must be exhausted. Did you cook all of this?" Myka says to Tracy.

“Mom helped. I picked her up in the afternoon. Dad came later."

“It was nice, thanks.” Myka flashes an appreciative smile, knowing it’s the appropriate thing to do.

Everyone stares at their cup for a moment, and then Jeannie speaks up.

“So who’s this fella your seeing?"

“Um…” Myka’s brow crinkles as her eyes dart between Jeannie and Tracy’s expectant faces. Should she lie and leave it at that? She barely talks to them as it is, so they'd never know. But she’s such a bad liar, Tracy would call her out in seconds. And she’s felt an honest connection with both of them tonight, so maybe she should just go with that.

“She’s not a fellow, Mom. Her name is Helena, and she has an eight-year-old daughter, Christina." Feeling unusually confident, Myka's face lights up with a luminously lopsided grin.

Jeannie forces an uncomfortable smile that fades as quickly as it appears. “I see. You...talk with your sister. I should finish cleaning up.” She rises and walks toward the kitchen but turns back before entering. Her unreadable gaze lingers first on Myka, then flicks anxiously between the siblings. “Don’t tell your father just yet." She disappears into the kitchen.

Tracy grabs Myka’s arm. “Are you really dating a woman? Who is she? Tell me everything."

Myka stiffens at Tracy's grip, thinking Tracy’s never this excited to hear about her life.

“She’s English?" Myka offers in explanation.

Tracy’s eyes widen. “Like from England? Cool. How long have you been dating?"

“A few months. But she might move back to England." Myka’s bright expression wanes at the thought of Helena’s situation.

“Why? Because of her kid’s father?"

Myka’s comprehension of Tracy’s question lags. “What? No."

“Oh." Tracy angles her eyes to the side, then suddenly perks up. "Is she running away from him?"

Myna’s face pinches. "No."

Tracy leans over the table, stretching toward Myka. “What does he think now that she's a, um…you know.” She cocks her head and winks.

“A what?" Myka narrows her eyes.

Tracy looks to the left, then to the right, making sure no one else is in the room. She lowers her voice. “A lesbian."

Myka angles toward Tracy and matches Tracy’s tone. “I think she’s always been that way.”

Tracy gapes and leans back. She jerks upright at the sound of a plate being dropped.

“You ok, Mom?” Tracy yells toward the kitchen.

“Fine, dear. It slipped in the sink."

“So is he in the picture at all?” Tracy questions Myka, without skipping a beat.

“No.” Myka shakes her head.

“Well, that’s sad. Unless he was a bad man. Was he a bad man?” Tracy grabs Myka’s arm again.

“I-I don’t think so."

“Was he ever in the picture?"

“No,” Myka nearly barks. She wishes Tracy would stop talking.

Tracy reclines and nods her head slowly up and down. “Oh, I get it. I _get_ it. She’s one of those 'I want a kid without any attachments' kind of women. So did she do it at a clinic? I’ve heard that’s expensive. Is she rich?"

Myka’s stomach churns as she thinks this is getting out of hand. “No and, uh, no."

“What does she do for a living?” Tracy leans forward and places her arms on the table.

Myka feels she’s on the edge of hyperventilating. “That’s...complicated.”

“If she’s not rich, and doesn’t have a husband, she must have a job, right?”

Myka pauses, suddenly tongue-tied. Tracy cocks her head and stares quizzically at Myka.

“She used to work with computers, but now she’s in construction,” Myka eventually blurts, thinking that’s the lamest answer ever.

Tracy smiles knowingly. “I see…so she left the corporate world to get her hands dirty. But construction? She must be kinda built then, right? Like Sam? Sam was sorta hunky in an English teacher kinda way.” She sits up straighter and puffs out her chest, bending an arm to make a muscle.

“No.” Myka lunges forward and grabs Tracy’s arm, halts her motion, feeling horrified at the thought of physically comparing Sam and Helena. "Let me just—“ She slides her phone out of her pocket and quickly locates a picture of Helena and Christina. She shows it to Tracy.

Tracy swipes the phone from Myka’s hands. “That’s her? And her kid?” She pulls it closer to her face. “Huh.” She scrolls through the pictures without asking permission. “Not built at all.”

“No. But she’s really strong,” Myka adds proudly.

“She's pretty. And her kid’s really cute. Who’s the redhead?” Tracy flashes the phone at Myka then takes it back.

“That’s Claudia, Helena’s best friend from college. They all live together in a big apartment near where I work."

“Huh.” Tracy scrolls through to the end. She lingers over the last picture, the one showing Helena and Myka wearing their paper crowns. She holds it out for Myka to see. “This is seriously adorable,” she says, then adds with sincerity, “I’ve never seen you look this happy."

Myka beams at the photo, her heart warming at the memory of that moment.

“Tracy, honey, what should I do with these leftovers."

Tracy lets out an exasperated gasp. “Mom, I’m _busy_. I’ll take care of it later."

“You’ll be busy with little Kevin later. Just tell me where the Tupperware is."

Tracy rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’m coming.” She rises but addresses Myka before leaving. “This conversation isn't over. I want _details_.”

Myka gives a friendly smile, thinking this conversation is definitely over.

Tracy places a hand on Myka’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about Mom. I’ll work on her. And she’ll work on Dad."

“Thanks,” Myka says softly. She watches Tracy enter the kitchen and decides that may very well be the nicest thing her little sister’s ever said to her.

Myka joins Kevin and Warren in the living room to watch the game. She sits quietly and attempts to clear her mind, letting the stresses of the evening fall away. As half time approaches, she decides that's her cue to leave.

She rises and gathers her things, then announces to both the kitchen and the living room she needs to get going. Her action is met with little resistance.

Everyone shuffles out the front door and stands in a row to say their goodbyes.

The line starts with Kevin.

"Congrats on your promotion, Kevin." Myka gives Kevin a light hug.

"Good luck with your window."

"Thanks." Kevin's a nice guy, she thinks. She's glad he's part of the family.

She moves on to Tracy.

"I can't believe how big little Kevin is," Myka says half-jokingly.

Tracy’s lips pinch into a lopsided grimace. She slaps Myka on the arm.

Myka fakes a gasp and rubs her arm. "It's nice to see you too, sis."

Tracy hugs Myka and whispers in her ear, "Remember, details." She winks as she pulls back.

Myka feels her chest tighten at the thought of Tracy's future questions.

Jeannie is next. She opens her arms wide and pulls Myka into a heart-warming embrace.

Myka hugs her tightly, feeling consoled by the gesture.

"It was really nice to see you, honey. You take care."

"It was good to see you too, Mom." As Myka looks at her mother, she sees an all too familiar wall being thrown up, as if she's had as much of the evening as possible and just wants to put the whole thing behind her for now. She saddens at the thought but knows it's easier to comply that break down that wall.

Myka turns to the left and eyes her father warily.

Warren's eyes soften an infinitesimal amount as he stands face to face with his daughter. “So you're doing ok?"

"I'm good, Dad. Really good."

"Well, good." Warren's gruff tone has lost some of its hard edge. He lifts his hands just enough to imply Myka should approach him.

Myka hesitates, then steps forward into an awkward but affectionate hug.

"Call your mother once and a while. She misses you." Warren's lips curl up ever so slightly at the ends and his eyes warm.

Myka looks toward her mother. "I will."

After one last look at the group, she hops in her car. She gives a little wave as she pulls out of the driveway. Everyone waves back in earnest.

Deciding to forgo directions from her phone, she navigates Tracy's neighborhood sans map and eventually runs into an entrance to the highway. As she drives, she reflects upon the evening. Her father backed down without her mother implicitly making him, her mother didn't freak out totally when she told her about Helena, and Tracy didn't talk about herself all night. She thinks, all in all, this was one of the better visits she's had with her family in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Myka returns to New York and is given answers to some of her burning questions.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Myka returns to New York and is given answers to some of her burning questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay on the update, but in general I think updates will be coming every other week from now on.
> 
> Note to self: Don’t post important chapters when you’re in a brain fog! I put this up on Tumblr a few weeks ago when I was fighting off a cold. The cold got worse, and I’m just now emerging from its clutches. As I’m reading this over again before posting on AO3, it’s obvious my brain was totally scrambled. So I’ve edited kinda majorly, tightened up dialog, smoothed out movements, etc. Hopefully it reads a lot better! (Not that anyone except for myself is reading this chapter for a second time, but I thought it was worth mentioning.)

—————————

> _“Unlike Rome, New York has never learned the art of growing old by playing on all its pasts. Its present invents itself, from hour to hour, in the act of throwing away its previous accomplishments and challenging the future.”_  
>  Michel de Certeau 

\----------------

On Sunday morning, Myka makes one last trip to inspect the stained glass window, feeling more confident than ever about the situation. She lowballs the seller, and he tries to haggle, but she won't budge. Eventually, he backs down, and a deal is made. As she walks back to her car, she smiles smugly to herself, thinking inheriting Dad’s stubbornness isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

She drops the car off at the airport and finds her flight without a hitch. As the plane takes off, she stares out the window and feels the tension from the weekend falling by the wayside. As they hit cruising altitude, she rests her head on the cabin wall and drifts off into an unusually heavy sleep. Hours later, she winks awake and recalls vague figments of a dream; sun-drenched sidewalks, tall buildings, blue sky; Helena's smile as Christina skips by her side; Claudia soundlessly beckoning everyone to follow her. The dream felt cozy, comforting, as if everything was fine and her fears for the future were unwarranted. Lazily rubbing the sleep out of eyes, she thinks it’s funny; for once Helena wasn’t on her mind, but she magically appeared anyway, bluntly manifesting herself in Myka's unconscious.

The drinks cart trundles by and she orders a coffee, knowing it’s not the best choice at this hour but thinking she might need it to get through the rigamarole when she lands. As the caffeine begins coursing through her veins, she analyzes her dream and her anxiety returns. Was she was part of the group or watching them from afar? And if she was watching from afar, does she think they're happy without her? Is that why Helena hasn’t been in touch? What if she’s in jail already? Her heartbeat quickens. No, Claudia would have told her, she’s certain. She leans her forehead on the wall next to the window, and gazes blankly out into the depths of the night sky, admitting to herself she’s overthinking because she’s overtired. As a distraction from her thoughts, she pulls out the in-flight magazine and flips lazily through its pages. Helena will call; she tells herself. She will, when she’s ready.

\-------------

By Monday night, Myka's feeling antsy over Helena’s radio silence, and decides to call Abigail to solicit a pep talk. Abigail works her magic and by the end of the call, Myka is yet again confident Helena is out there working on things and will soon be in touch.

She barely gets turned around before she’s out the door to work on Tuesday. Her morning is a bear, her to-do list never-ending, and she finds she's learning in real time how to delegate and prioritize. Her co-workers insist things will slow in August, but she’s not sure she believes that could be true.

Also on her plate: the summer group show at Amanda’s gallery, which comes down this week. The good news: her paintings will be traveling to Europe for another show, and she’s been asked to add a few more. The bad news: she has no paintings to give and needs to hurry to finish up several works in progress. In the meantime, Amanda's in town, and they’ve made plans to meet up.

Thursday after work, Myka finds Amanda impatiently waiting for her on the sidewalk just outside the gallery’s front doors.

“Why are you outside? It’s boiling out here,” Myka asks, clearly confused.

“It’s positively glacial in there. And that show is abominable. My eyes hurt just being near it.” Amanda rolls her eyes.

Myka smirks at Amanda’s pretense. “It gets better on the second floor. Where’s Pete?"

Amanda huffs a frustrated breath and frowns. “Driving me up the wall. He would not stop raving over this Mexican sandwich shop nearby. I told him just to go and meet us later.” She waves a hand in a northernly direction.

Myka narrows her eyes. “Ok. But I thought we were getting dinner?"

“We are. He’ll eat. That man is a bottomless pit."

Myka snickers and grins warmly at Amanda, thinking it’s nice to see her smitten the point of bending to someone else’s will.

“Speaking of suitors, any word from Helena?”

“Nothing yet,” Myka replies gloomily. She’s frankly surprised Amanda remembered Helena’s been M.I.A.

Amanda holds out her arms and pulls Myka into a comforting hug. Myka returns the gesture, thinking Amanda’s outwardly frosty demeanor can, when appropriate, invert, causing her to turn oddly intuitive and somewhat overly affectionate.

Amanda draws back and skims her hands up and down the side of Myka’s arms. “I’m so sorry. You must worried sick."

Myka drops her chin and lowers her eyes.

"Though I imagine it's better for you that she’s sorting out her visa on her own."

“I don’t know. Maybe—“ Myka looks up and freezes mid-sentence as a figure in the distance catches her eye. A familiar face, staring intensely from under the brim of an oversized baseball cap, stands a few paces away, wearing paint splattered clothes. As their eyes meet, the figure whirls around and briskly walks away.

“Helena?” Myka calls out.

The figure doesn’t respond. Myka’s eyes follow its movements as it disappears around a corner.

“You go ahead; I’ll catch up,” Myka instructs, and skirts around Amanda. She hurries down the street and rounds the corner, then calls out again, only louder this time. “Helena, wait!"

Helena looks over her shoulder but continues forward and crosses the intersection, slowing to a stop as she reaches the middle of a small park. Myka jogs to catch up and grasps Helena’s shoulder. Helena slowly turns to face her.

“Hey,” Myka says softly, leaning lightly on Helena while catching her breath. Her brow creases as she notes the troubled look on Helena’s face. “What’s wrong?"

“I-I’ve clearly interrupted your evening. You should get back to your…companion.” Helena averts her eyes.

“Amanda? We're just getting dinner and seeing a show.” Myka feels Helena’s shoulder tense and withdraws her hand. “With her boyfriend, Pete. You remember Pete?”

“I know no, Pete,” Helena says sharply.

“You know. _Pete_ , my ex roommate's ex-boyfriend? He was at my opening.”

Helena stares at Myka, eyes blank, mouth slack.

“Maybe you didn’t meet him. You were probably too busy kicking that mailbox.“ Myka grimaces as she points to the mailbox in question. Out of the corner of her eye, she notes the basketball courts next to the mailbox and suddenly realizes this is very the same park she and Helena were in on the 4th of July. And months ago, she sat on a bench here while describing her near-kiss with Helena to Abigail after the bathtub incident. What is it about this place? Why does she keep ending up here?

Helena glances the mailbox then turns back to Myka. Their eyes meet, and Myka’s lips slowly rise to form a tender, lopsided grin.

“I missed you, you know,” she offers warmly and reaches out to touch Helena’s arm. Helena swivels back and steps away. Her expression deadpans, and her eyes turn dark.

“Myka, I'm being deported,” Helena blurts gravely.

Myka clenches her hand and lowers her arm. “When?"

“In a month.” Helena slides her hands into her pockets and pulls her elbows in.

“So the trial?"

“Done.”

"No jail?”

“No jail,” Helena repeats, shaking her head lightly back and forth.

Myka's lips slowly rise and continue rising until she feels her cheeks straining. She hadn’t realized until now how truly worried she was Helena might be incarcerated.

“That's great!” she exclaims, and springs forward, pulling Helena into a celebratory hug. Helena returns the hug, but with less enthusiasm. Myka draws back but holds Helena at arms length. "Isn't it great?"

“I-I reckon, yes,” Helena says with little conviction. She grins weakly.

Confused by Helena’s apathy, Myka slides her hands down the sides of Helena’s arms and laces their fingers together. "What did Claudia say?"

"I only just found out. You’re the first to know."

Myka squeezes Helena's hands tightly, feeling overjoyed Helena came to her first.

“So a month?"

Helena nods once.

“A month,” Myka repeats faintly.

Helena releases Myka’s hands and walks over to sit on a nearby bench. She looks down at her feet and grips the edge of the seat, restlessly scuffing the toe of her boot over the sidewalk.

“I’ve not been particularly generous with you, especially of late. And for that, I’m genuinely sorry."

“You’ve had a lot going on,” Myka says, trying her best to sound compassionate. She shifts closer to Helena.

“I wish I’d expressed sooner how deeply I care for you and how terribly pleased I’ve been to witness all your successes.” Helena turns her head to the side, meeting Myka’s gaze.

Myka smiles sheepishly and lowers her eyes.

Helena sits back on the bench. “I was hoping I might visit your studio before I go, to see what you’ve been working on.”

“Really?” Myka’s eyes dart up.

“Yes."

"I promised Christina ages ago I’d show her where I make my paintings."

“True. But I thought, perhaps, I might come alone.” Helena looks down and traces a finger over a paint splatter on her thigh.

Myka's heart skips a beat at the thought of an evening alone with Helena. “Saturday? After work?”

“I’ll speak with Claudia, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Myka’s lips rise, forming a radiant, lovestruck grin. Helena smiles enthusiastically in return, and the two sit beaming at each other for several seconds.

Helena breaks their trance. “Should you not join your friends?"

“I should,” Myka says dazedly. “But I feel like I haven’t seen you in months."

“Nineteen days,” Helena admits factually.

“Nineteen days…” Myka’s words trail off as she slides closer to Helena and takes hold of her hand. She focuses on the motion of her thumb grazing lightly over Helena’s knuckles before looking up to meet Helena’s warm, expectant gaze.

“Would you just...kiss me already,” Myka requests, sounding mildly exasperated.

Helena smiles coyly and swiftly compiles, but before their lips touch, the brim of her hat hits Myka’s forehead. She tugs off the hat and cups Myka's face, pulling her into an all-consuming kiss.

Myka's spirits soar, her limbs tingling with excitement the longer their lips stay pressed together.

Helena slowly draws back but keeps her eyes on Myka. “Until Saturday,” she says softly, then rises and plucks her hat from the sidewalk, then places it snugly back on her head. She glances adoringly at Myka one last time then walks off in the direction of Claudia’s apartment.

\--------------

Saturday after work, Myka showers first thing in the door and decides to dress casually for the evening, choosing a t-shirt and shorts due to the humid heat of the late July. As she waits for Helena to arrive, she situates herself on the couch and attempts to read, but finds she’s too anxious to focus. Instead, she flips through a magazine but retains little of the information on its pages.

She jumps as the buzzer sounds, then quickly moves to the intercom and directs Helena to the second floor. Helena appears moments later holding a bouquet of flowers and bottle of wine.

“For the lady,” Helena effuses and kisses Myka lightly on the cheek.

Myka smiles shyly and removes the items from Helena's hands. “Come in,” she says eagerly.

Helena steps into the apartment and Myka follows. Myka moves toward the kitchen.

“Have a seat,” she says and directs Helena toward the living room. She sets the wine on the counter and walks around back, then crouches down to search for a vase under the sink.

Helena meanders slowly across the room, cataloging every detail as she goes. “Your flatmates have excellent taste. This place is spectacular. I had no idea.”

“I know. You’d never expect it from the outside of the building.” Myka arranges the flowers neatly in the vase and sets it aside. She opens the wine and pours two glasses.

Helena studiously studies the titles of books on the shelves. “Do they own or rent?"

“Rent, though I have a feeling it’s not a legal live/work space.” Myka joins Helena and hands her a glass.

“Where’s your room?” Helena inquires. She arches a brow and takes a sip of wine.

“Over there.” Myka nods towards a large industrial metal sliding door. “You want to see?"

“Yes,” Helena says with interest.

Myka circles around the couch and slides the door open. Helena abandons her glass on the coffee table and follows. She steps past Myka and walks directly toward a set of paintings near the window. Myka downs her entire glass of wine and slides the door closed. She strides across the room and joins Helena.

"Is this what you been working on?” Helena queries.

“Yeah. They’re different from what you saw at my show. I’m sort of playing around.”

Helena’s eyes dart between several paintings as if trying to equate meaning from the group. “This may sound obtuse, but what are they of?”

“Memories. Fabric patterns based on vintage clothes I used to wear and other stuff I lost in the fire. When I visited my folks last weekend, it sort of jogged my memory.”

“I didn’t know you’d been away again,” Helena says with an apologetic tone.

“I went for work but ended up having dinner with my folks at my sister’s,” Myka explains. She looks directly at Helena, eyes twinkling. "I told them about you.”

Helena stiffens. “Was that wise?"

“Why wouldn’t it be wise?”

Helena's gaze wanders beyond Myka. She squints, then steps toward a painting on the wall. “Is that a painting of a rock?"

Myka twirls to see what Helena is referencing. “Yeah. It’s kind of silly, I know. When I was a kid, our first and last big vacation was to the Grand Canyon. I thought it was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen, but my sister hated it, so we didn’t stay long. I took a rock as a souvenir and for some reason, I carried it with me everywhere I moved."

“I’ve been to the Grand Canyon. We stopped on our way to New York," Helena announces proudly.

“I know. You had a picture in your living room. Christina was tugging your arm."

Helena’s cheerful expression dims, and she falls silent.

Myka mentally kicks herself for bringing up Helena’s old apartment, thinking if she misses it, Helena must miss it, too. But now that the subject’s been breached, she decides go with it.

“I’ve also been drawing things that pop into my mind. Some of the stuff is from your old apartment.” She moves over to her desk and opens her sketchbook.

Helena comes up behind Myka and places a hand between Myka's shoulder blades. She presses gently into Myka's back, and as she leans forward, a comforting warmth radiates welcomely down Myka's spine.

“It seems I harbored quite the sad collection of broken objects,” Helena muses as Myka flips through the pages.

Myka twists at the waist, coming face to face with Helena. “Not sad. Or broken,“ she pleads. "Worn. With character.”

Helena grins politely as her eyes drift down, focusing on Myka's lips. Myka leans forward and without hesitation, initiates a willful, thirsty kiss. Helena eagerly reciprocates and lets her hand wander to rest on the small of Myka’s back. Myka deepens the kiss and turns her entire body to press fully into Helena's.

Helena returns the pressure, driving Myka back until her hamstrings dig deeply into the edge of the desk. Myka grins madly into Helena’s lips and her hands shoot up, tangling in Helena’s hair. Helena’s fingers stray under the edge of Myka's shirt and rake lightly over bare flesh before boldly disappearing under the lip of Myka’s shorts. Helena's knee shifts to the center and insistently nudges Myka’s legs apart.

Helena’s thigh pressing in and up elicits a muffled moan from Myka’s throat. Her lips mash ever more forcefully into Helena’s and her hands clench, covetously gripping fistfuls of dark locks. Helena yanks the hem of Myka's shirt up, forcing Myka to release her lips. Myka lifts her arms and Helena wrestles the shirt over Myka's curls, then off entirely. Helena tosses the garment to the side and takes a tiny step back, eyeing Myka’s newly exposed skin with a fierce reverence.

Myka’s heart swells as she meets Helena’s ravenous gaze, but soon deadens as the cruel memory of their last intimate encounter flashes forth, triggered by the loss of Helena’s touch. In a desperate bid to move forward with certainty, words spill from her lips in a heated rush.

“You’ll stay the night if we do this?"

“Yes."

"And be here in the morning?"

“Yes,” Helena instantly affirms. She offers a reassuring smile and reaches out a hand, tenderly cupping the base of Myka’s jaw. Her fingers skim down, tracing the graceful curve of Myka's neck, and she drifts forward, lips connecting enthusiastically with the rise of Myka's collarbone.

Myka closes her eyes and lolls her head to the side, concentrating on the feel of Helena’s lips working their way up the slope her neck, Helena's tongue pressing insistently into taut, stretched muscles. She wills her mind to abandon any reservations but finds her consciousness to present to oblige.

“Tell me this is the beginning,” she says determinedly, pushing the words out before the moment is lost.

“Of what?” Helena questions innocently, lips barely lifting from Myka’s skin.

“Of us.” Myka takes hold of Helena's head and gently angles it up, forcing their eyes to meet.

Helena’s face slackens and her eyes blank. She inches back. “But I’ll be in England.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Myka counters and stretches forward, kissing Helena with every ounce of her being.

Helena stares dumbfounded as Myka eases away.

“I’ll do anything to make this work.” Myka pops open the button on her shorts and drags the zipper down. She pushes the fabric down, and her shorts drop to the floor. Helena’s eyes follow.

“I won't lose you, too.”

Helena’s eyes flick up and upon meeting Myka's desperate gaze, she surges forward, passionately fastening her lips to Myka’s. In one smooth motion, she lifts Myka onto the desk and nestles herself between Myka’s legs, her arms tightening possessively around Myka's waist.

Myka seizes one of Helena’s hands and rounds it forward to rest palm down on her bare stomach. She slides Helena’s fingertips under the lacy elastic barrier and gives her hand a push. Helena willingly continues the movement and grins wildly into their kiss. At Helena’s touch, a throaty, satisfied groan gushes from Myka's lips as a feeling of momentary transcendence washes over her; a crossroads met and overcome. Myka slips her arms around Helena’s waist, and she arches her back, calves wrapping tightly around Helena’s thighs, wrenching her ever closer.

Helena lays her forehead on Myka’s shoulder and concentrates on the rhythm building between them. Myka smiles slyly as their breath syncs, feeling absolutely electrified by the depth of connection. Helena grazes her teeth across Myka’s heated skin and burrows her lips into the crook of Myka’s neck. She bites down, gently at first, then harder, matching the intensity of Myka's fingers digging into her back as she quickens her pace. Myka’s arms strain to pull Helena closer as her entire body tenses, her lungs filling with a sharp, deep intake of breath. Helena releases a low, rumbly groan in response, her chest heaving, breath coming in waves.

The pair remains frozen, suspended in an all-consuming bliss, until Helena shifts and carefully withdraws her hand. Myka shudders at the sensation then slumps, crumpling in a limp heap on Helena’s shoulder. Helena holds her tightly and maneuvers her lips near Myka's ear. “I’ve got you,” she murmurs softly. “I’ve got you,” she repeats in a whisper, like a mantra.

As she rests, Myka’s mind begins to clear, and she feels as if she sees Helena through new eyes. This couldn’t have happened earlier; she thinks, not like this, not with Helena all in. If Helena hadn’t told her about the trial, she’d have been crushed once she found out, and a moment like this would have been lost in anger. And if the trial hadn’t been resolved, Helena would have held back. But _this_ , right now, the depth of it, the ease of it, this was worth with the wait. As her strength returns, she lifts her head and feels overpowered by desire the minute her eyes meet Helena’s.

Myka slides off the desk and crashes her lips into Helena's. Her hands circle Helena’s waist, and she walks Helena back toward the bed. As they reach their destination, Myka spins around and drops down, grabbing hold of Helena’s belt as she falls.

“Off,” she orders firmly. “All of it.” Myka pushes Helena away as she releases her grip.

Helena’s lips lift into a smug smile as she hurriedly unlatches her belt and unzips her jeans. She begins to peel them off but slows to a stop as she notices Myka reaching around her back to unlatch her bra.

Myka halts her action as she glances at Helena. Her lips curl self-assuredly, and she nods at Helena’s pants. “You first."

Helena springs back into action. First wriggling out of her jeans, she then yanks her tank top over her head and hurls it across the floor. She rips the socks off of her feet and stands gleaming at Myka. Myka holds her bra captive while pointing at Helena’s undergarments with her eyes. Helena wets her lips and gets to work, removing the remainder of her clothes.

Upon completion, Helena stands tall, utterly confident in her state of undress, staring indignantly at Myka’s chest. Myka rakes her eyes over Helena’s lithe form and dramatically rips off her bra, then throws it in Helena’s direction. She gingerly removes her last undergarment and reclines, posing sensuously on the bed.

Helena pounces and smoothly slips their bodies together, effortlessly locking lips. Myka returns the enthusiasm by flipping Helena over and sliding her knee between Helena’s thighs, fastidiously holding onto Helena’s mouth all the while. She endeavors to explore every inch of Helena’s skin with her mouth and hands, wandering slowly, memorizing every curve, crevice, every scar, her mind working overtime, cataloging each response to her touch.

Her patience soon wanes, and while dragging her lips across Helena’s stomach, she moves her hand where it wants to go. Helena responds with a guttural, sonorous moan as her hands grip fistfuls of sheets, her back arching, toes curling. Myka trails her lips up Helena’s chest then kisses her mouth ravenously until Helena’s breath turns quick and heavy, severing the connection. Myka finds Helena’s release even more pleasurable than her own. The rush of arousal she feels is beyond anything she’s ever felt before.

The two lose themselves, insatiably exploring each other's bodies long into the night, the hunger to touch and be touched unquenchable. Sleep finally overcomes them as dawn breaks and they drift off, Helena wrapped tightly around Myka's wearied, satiated form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Helena and Myka move forward (finally)!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Myka and Helena move forward (finally).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating, things have gotten really busy on the flipside.

————————

> _“I see in the distance the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings pointing vainly to the sky and it suddenly occurs to me that New York is on the point of acquiring a history and that it already has its ruins.”_  
>  -Jean Paul Sartre in 1946.

\-------------

The sound of a muffled ringing gently rouses Myka. Her eyes blink open and her ears focus on the sound. She rolls instinctively in the direction of the noise eventually once she determines it’s origin and she smiles at the sight of Helena sleeping peacefully next to her.

“Helena…your phone,” she mumbles drowsily. She shifts closer to Helena.

“Mmf.” Helena barely stirs.

The ringing stops, then starts again, this time from Myka’s side of the bed. Myka rolls over and reaches towards the dresser. Helena flips toward her and grabs her arm.

“She’ll call back,” Helena says, sounding surprisingly awake.

“Who?” Myka counters, taken slightly aback by Helena’s sudden alertness.

“Claudia,” Helena replies. She carefully lowers Myka’s arm and casually slides on top of her; first propping herself up on her arms, then dipping down, initiating a sleepy but sultry kiss. Upon release, she flashes a smug grin and disappears under the covers.

“What are you—”

“One moment,” Helena quips and continues to slip further down.

Myka lets out a startled groan as Helena’s lips press gently into her thigh. Wasting no time, Helena trails her kisses up and gets right to the point. A few minutes later, Myka's hands clench as an emphatic moan escapes her lips.

As the phone rings again, Helena jerks upright and pulls the blanket loosely around her. She flashes a roguish grin, then reaches across Myka and grabs the phone from the dresser. Myka lies limp, feeling as if her entire body has melded with the bed.

“Yes,” Helena greets sternly, but with a hint of playfulness.

Myka focuses on the tinny sound of Claudia talking, but can’t discern any words.

“Yes,” Helena answers, her voice ringing with finality. Her eyes twinkle as they meet Myka’s.

A high pitched squeal radiates from the phone. Helena yanks it away from her ear and holds it at arms length until the sound dies down. She lifts a brow at Myka while listening to Claudia continue talking.

“Of course.” Helena nods in agreement to something and ends the call. She tosses the phone on the desk then addresses Myka. “She’s just checking in. I’m to be home by two, to mind Christina.”

Myka's spirits wilt at Helena’s words. She was hoping to have Helena to herself for the day, but knows Sundays are usually reserved for Christina. “You’ll have leave by one. What time is it now?”

“Quarter past twelve,” Helena states factually. She falls forward and props herself up on her arms, suspending her body inches away from Myka’s. “Come with me. Spend the day with us."

“I don’t know if I can. I can’t move my limbs.” Myka’s lips lift cheekily on one side.

“A situation easily remedied, I’m sure.” Helena slides her knee between Myka’s thighs and leans down for a kiss.

“I’m not so sure. It’s your fault I’m like this in the first place.”

Helena freezes, her lips hovering centimeters from Myka’s. “Fine. If you no longer desire my attentions…” She presses her knees into the bed and pushes up on her hands.

Myka throws her arms around Helena's shoulders and pulls her back down. “Oh look, my arms are working.” She guides Helena’s lips towards hers and tangles her fingers in Helena’s hair.

The pair remains in constant motion but completely inseparable for nearly an hour.

In moment of rest, Myka lies peacefully with Helena snuggled up against her, barely able to think. She knows one of them needs to check the time, and reaches out an arm, feeling around on the top of her dresser for her phone. Once located she pulls it towards her and taps the screen.

“Helena, it’s one-fifteen. We have to go,” she says urgently.

“Call a car,” Helena purrs and places a brief kiss on Myka’s ear. She rolls out of bed and shuffles around the room, picking up clothes off the floor, flinging the aggregated items onto the bed.

Myka scoots back and props herself up on the headboard. As she contemplates a very naked Helena pulling on her jeans, a dreamy, dopey grin takes over her lips.

Helena meets Myka’s gaze while picking up a shirt. “Car?"

“Right.” Myka’s grin drops. She grabs her phone and scrolls through her contacts, then initiates a call. As it rings, she continues watching Helena dress but snaps into action as the car service answers.

“Ten minutes,” Myka announces and hits end. Knowing she needs to get up and dressed, she suddenly feels nervous, thinking she is currently very naked. But Helena had no qualms dressing in front of her this morning and, come to think of it, she herself didn’t hesitate undressing last night. Deciding there’s little time for modesty, she slips out of bed and stands with her back to Helena. She opens several drawers and lays out various clothes neatly on the bed.

As she turns to dress she looks up and finds Helena staring unapologetically back. Helena smiles radiantly and halts midway buttoning her shirt, eagerly taking in the sight of Myka’s fully unclothed form.

“It’s a tragedy you must dress at all. And I’m afraid I won’t allow you unless I leave the room. I’m off to the loo."

Myka opens her mouth to reply, but no words come out. She bites her bottom lip, her eyes following Helena as she crosses the room. Once Helena is gone she swiftly dons a t-shirt and shorts, then throws a few things in her bag, thinking she should hurry as the car will be here any minute. The second Helena arrives back from the bathroom she scurries off to clean up.

As she gazes in the mirror, she's appalled at the sight of her hair, which is frizzing out of control. She does her best to tame her locks then gives her face a quick wash and her teeth a brush. She considers putting on some makeup then assesses her hair again, and thinks no amount of makeup will save this look today. Plus there’s no time. She hustles back to her room and grabs her bag.

“The car’s probably here, we should go,” Myka says anxiously. She whisks Helena across the apartment and out the door.

The pair squints at the brightness of the day as they exit the building. Myka searches the area for their car and places a hand over her brow to shield her eyes. “Not here yet.”

“Then there’s time for this.” Helena sidles up to Myka and snakes her arms around her waist. She leans in for a kiss but freezes at the sound of a honk.

The two pile into the car as quickly as possible and settle into the back seat. Helena cants forward to give the driver directions. “Delancey and Norfolk, please. And hurry.”

The car drives off.

Helena turns toward Myka. “What time is it?"

Myka checks her phone. “One thirty."

“Do you think we’ll make it by two?"

“We might. Less traffic on Sundays."

“Alright,” Helena answers affirmatively but sounds unconvinced. She reclines back.

Myka sinks into the seat and tilts her head far enough back that it lays flat on the top. She closes her eyes and lets her head loll to the side, exposing her long, elegant neck.

Helena slides closer and readjusts her angle. She leans forward and presses her body into Myka’s as her hand wanders across Myka’s stomach.

Myka breathes in sharply as Helena’s lips make contact with her stretched neck. “Helena...” she says playfully and smiles as Helena kisses her way up toward her ear. As she rolls her head towards Helena her eyes open and she catches a glimpse of the driver watching them in his rear view mirror.

“Maybe not here,” Myka lightly scolds and gently pushes Helena away. She threads her arm through Helena’s and clasps their hands, then lays her head on Helena’s shoulder. “How about this?"

“Not comparable,” Helena says dejectedly. “But acceptable."

Myka snuggles closer and Helena combs her fingers leisurely through Myka’s hair. Myka closes her eyes and concentrates on the feel of Helena’s soothing touch. Within a few minutes, she finds herself poised on the edge of sleep.

“Myka?” Helena speaks with a weighted, hesitant voice. Her hand catches midway through a stroke.

“Mmm?” Myka doesn’t move an inch.

Helena pauses before continuing. She removes her hand and places it on her lap. “Never mind."

Myka tilts her head up. “What?"

Helena angles her eyes down and meets Myka’s gaze. “Later."

Myka studies Helena’s lips through her lashes then stretches up, kissing them briefly. “Ok.” She nestles her head in the crook of Helena’s neck, then places Helena’s hand back in her hair. Helena rests her chin on the crown of Myka’s head and continues combing through her curls.

Myka closes her eyes and smiles. She knows what Helena was going to say, and knows _that_ discussion will take far longer than the length of this car ride to complete. In fact, she thought they would have talked it through last night, before things went where they did, but once Helena arrived, talk of the future was the last thing on her mind.

And what Helena doesn’t know, she thinks, is that she already knows more than she’s supposed to. When she spoke with Abigail on Monday, Abigail took pity on her and admitted she’d been talking with Claudia all along, monitoring the situation. She was initially angered that Abigail knew things she didn’t, but eventually realized her anger wasn’t productive and instead prodded Abigail relentlessly for information. Abigail resisted at first, but soon relented and told her everything she knew, including the fact Giselle wasn’t able to sort out Helena's work visa. And that fact want Helena would most likely be deported.

So she and Abigail spent and hour coupling the information on hand with hypothetical outcomes of the trial. They weighed the pros and cons and formulated Helena’s options for the future with Myka in tow. Abigail played devil’s advocate, pushing every one of Myka’s buttons, but eventually they came up with a complex but workable solution.

So what Helena doesn’t know, is that Myka already has a plan. And for that plan to move forward, Myka needs to convince Helena of its worth.

\--------

“Just here. By the hydrant."

Myka’s eyes crack open at the sound of Helena’s voice. She feels the car swerve and drowsily peels herself off of Helena’s shoulder, wondering when exactly she nodded off. Suddenly worried about the time, she pulls her phone from her pocket and nervously taps the screen She breathes a sigh of relief as she notes the time. One fifty-eight. All good.

Helena pays the driver, then opens the door and begins to exit the car. When Myka doesn’t immediately follow, she grabs Myka's arm and guides her out.

“Sorry, I’m a little out of it,” Myka admits. She blinks and smiles sheepishly.

Helena beams at Myka for a moment then brushes an errant curl away from her face. As her phone rings, she takes hold of Myka’s hand, and pulls her toward the entrance of Claudia’s building. Rushing past the doorman, the pair file directly into the elevator and tumble out at sixteen, scurrying fastidiously down the hall. Before Helena can pull out her key, Claudia opens the door.

“It’s about time,” Claudia snaps. She steps into the hall and immediately herds Helena and Myka into the apartment. “Watch for Dewy,” she warns, then leans back in the apartment and yells “Bye, Christina." Dewy appears like a shot out of nowhere, but Claudia closes the door before he escapes. Claudia emits a loud “Ha!” as she walks off. Dewy sits and stares at the door.

“No matter where he is, he knows,” Helena says thoughtfully.

Christina runs across the apartment and giddily scoops up Dewy. She turns toward Helena but drops him upon sight of Myka.

“Myka!” Christina’s entire face lights up brightly, her mouth forming a toothy grin.

“Hey, Christina!” Myka extends her arms and crouches down.

Christina bounds into Myka’s arms.

“How've you been kid?” Myka gives Christina a squeeze then releases her but keeps her at arms length. She flashes a warm, lopsided smile, thinking she's really missed a dose of Christina’s cheerful enthusiasm these past few weeks.

“You wanna see what I made at daycare?"

“Sure.” Myka rises and glances at Helena.

Helena glances at Christina. “No love for your mother, I see.”

‘Hi, Mom,” Christina says on cue and throws her arms dramatically around Helena’s leg.

Helena looks towards Myka. “Why don’t I make lunch, while you peruse Christina’s art.”

Myka pouts and raises a brow. “Coffee?"

“First thing."

“Deal."

Helena moves to the kitchen. Christina takes Myka’s hand and leads her to her room.

Myka sits on Christina's bed while Christina removes an item from her shelves.

"We made this," she says merrily while thrusting a creation consisting of two cups, several popsicle sticks, and feathers at Myka. She drops it on the bed the flits across the room. "And this." She flings a paper with human-like forms on it in Myka's direction. Myka tries to catch it, but it floats onto the pillows. "And this." She holds out a roundish shaped gray rock with google eyes, paper cat ears and whiskers, wrapped in something that looks vaguely like a cape.

Myka takes the rock from Christina's hand and inspects it closely. "I used to have a pet rock."

“You did? What happened to it?” Christina’s eyes go wide.

“I lost it. But I made a painting of it.” Myka feels a pang of sadness over her lost rock then slightly ridiculous admitting she made a painting of it.

“Can I see it?"

“Sure. I’ll show you sometime.” Myka hands the rock to Christina and picks up the paper. “Who's this?"

Christina plops on the bed next to Myka. "We were supposed to draw our family. That's me, Aunt Claudia, Mom, you and Dewy," she explains while pointing to shapes on the page. She giggles as she reaches Dewy.

Myka takes a closer look. Claudia sports a shock of orange hair while Helena’s locks are immaculately rendered with thick black lines. Myka's curls are brown and bouncy, spiraling off in every direction. Christina's hair is drawn similarly but in black. Everyone's hands are joined, Myka's with Helena's, Helena's with Christina's, Christina's with Claudia's. Dewy is a blur in the corner, as he often is in real life.

Myka smiles and raises a hand, pressing her fingers to her lips, thinking this is the most adorable thing she's ever been a part of.

"What did your Mom say when she saw this?"

"She liked it. We were going to put it on the fridge, but she said to wait."

"Wait for what?"

“For you to come back."

"Back from where?"

"Mom said you had to go away so she could fix things, but said you’d be back."

Interesting, Myka thinks. She’ll definitely have to chat with Helena about this later.

"Did she fix things?"

"I don't know. But you're back, so I guess she did."

"Lunch is served," Helena announces from the doorway.

Myka flashes Helena the drawing. "This is adorable."

"I know. Shall we put it on the fridge now?” Helena asks Christina.

"Yeah!" Christina yanks the drawing from Myka's hands and whisks it off into the kitchen.

Helena leans against the doorframe and crosses her arms. "Thank you for indulging her."

"I don't mind. I missed her,” Myka says honestly. She rises and walks toward Helena.

Helena pushes off the doorframe and threads a curl behind Myka’s ear. "You look tired, love."

"That's your fault," Myka says, her lips rising to form a sly grin.

"Let's get you that coffee.”

While lunch is eaten, conversation is kept on the light side, covering topics such as outings during Myka’s absence and Myka’s work trip to Denver. Myka and Helena take turns showering, and the trio spends a lazy day together, playing games, eating snacks and making collages. Pizza is ordered for dinner, and a movie is watched afterward. By the end of the movie, Myka’s sound asleep, sprawled across Helena’s lap. Helena shifts in an attempt to extract herself and Myka blinks awake.

“So sorry to rouse you, but it’s Christina’s bedtime."

Myka pries herself up and smacks her lips drowsily.

“You’re obviously staying the night,” Helena says knowingly.

Myka swings her head toward the balcony and narrows her eyes. “Not out there."

“Not out there,” Helena affirms. She stands and walks over to Christina, who is cozied up on the other side of the couch with Dewy. She extends a hand. “It’s time for bed.”

“But I wanna stay out here, with you and Myka.” Christina pouts.

“Not tonight, but another night, alright?"

“Promise?"

“I promise."

Christina looks towards Myka. “You’ll come back?"

“I’ll come back.” Myka’s heart sinks at the worry in Christina’s eyes.

“Ok.” Christina takes Helena’s hand, and the two walk toward the bathroom.

Myka slides down to lie flat on the couch and closes her eyes. She feels like she’d fall sleep anywhere right now, even the balcony.

An indeterminate amount of time later, she feels the couch move. She opens an eye and sees Helena perched nearby, arms folded on her lap, leaning forward, scanning the room.

“What are you looking for?” Myka questions groggily.

“Where to place our accommodations."

Myka lifts her head and props herself up on an elbow.

Helena places a hand on Myka’s shoulder. “Rest. I’ll sort it out."

Myka continues to rise and manages to sit up. She bends her neck to the right then to the left as if working out a kink. “We should talk first."

Helena glances at Myka. “You're exhausted. It can wait."

“It can’t.” Myka gently pushes Helena further back on the couch.

Helena keeps eye contact for a moment, then lowers her head and studies her hands. “I’d imagine, and rightly so, you may want to renegotiate some of the heat-of-the-moment terms you mentioned last night."

“I don’t."

Helena’s eyes dart up to meet Myka’s.

“Do you know what you're going to do?” Myka shifts closer. She places her hand over Helena’s and laces her fingers through.

“No. I’ve spoken with Claudia…she’s of the mind Christina should stay here for now since school's starting in a few weeks."

“And you?"

Helena hesitates before speaking. “It’s utterly selfish of me, but I can’t imagine being apart from her. We’ve spoken about all of us leaving, together, but Claudia’s bound to a large project here that won’t be competed until fall."

“Maybe I can help,” Myka says enthusiastically. She squeezes Helena hand and twists to fully face her. “I’ve thought about this a lot, and I have some ideas. Hear me out, ok?"

“Alright.” Helena sits up straighter.

“I know this whole thing thing is a mess, but you need to see it as an opportunity."

“What?” Helena draws back and releases Myka’s hand.

Myka continues, unfazed. “The last time you were in London, you buckled down, studied hard, finished your degree. You can do that again."

Helena opens her mouth to respond, but Myka raises a hand.

“It will be easier for you over there because you’re a citizen. You’ll be able to find work, _any_ work, no visa required.” Myka takes hold of Helena’s hand again. “You can pull yourself together and let Claudia and I take care of Christin—"

“Myk—"

Myka slaps a hand over Helena’s mouth. “Let me finish,” Myka scolds. She glares sternly at Helena.

Helena glowers for a moment, then slowly nods. Myka removes her hand.

“When Leena gets back in October, my job's going to change. I’m pretty sure I can spin it into anything I want. Definitely something where I’m in Europe more, something based in London. It will take time, but I think—"

“Absolutely not.” Helena pulls her hand from Myka’s and sinks back in the couch. She shakes her head lightly back and forth. “No."

“No to what?"

“All of it."

“Why?”

“You can’t change your entire life for me. For us.” Helena waves a hand toward Christina’s room.

“I’m not. My life’s been all over the place since I moved here from Providence."

“But you’re letting your future be shaped by my mistakes."

“I can shape it any way I want. I have choices,” Myka explains forthrightly, with a little too much edge in her tone.

“Then I beg of you, choose differently,” Helena advises cooly, her voice deepening.

Myka pinches her lips together and lifts her chin. Her nostrils flare as she sucks in a deep breath. “So what you’re saying is...don’t even try. You’re going to just leave and tell me it’s for all the best—"

“I never said that—"

“Well, that’s what you sound like,” Myka grumbles harshly. She glares at Helena.

Helena holds Myka’s gaze for a few moments then speaks in a low tone. “To become a full time care giver to my child is not a burden I’d place upon anyone."

“Except Claudia,” Myka blurts.

“Claudia offered all on her own. She knows what she’s getting into but you—"

“I could learn. You know I could. And Christina likes me, she knows me. I’m in her drawing. And it wouldn’t be forever, we’d eventually all move to London, to be together.”

“You’d leave all you have here?"

“ _You’re_ what I have here. Since the fire, everything I’ve accomplished I've measured in relation to you. And when you leave...” Myka feels herself choking up. She knows she has more in New York than just Helena, and she’s not one to be manipulative, but she’s feeling desperate right now, and that’s what came out her mouth. She needs Helena to understand how much she cares, how important she is to her.

Helena immediately pulls Myka toward her and wraps her arms around her tightly. Myka slips her hands around Helena's waist and lets her body sink into Helena’s. Feeling herself begin to shudder, she tells herself to stay calm and gives herself over to the warmth and comfort of Helena’s embrace.

“I'll need to speak with Claudia,” Helena says quietly in Myka’s ear.

“I know.” Myka pulls back and sniffs once, deeply.

“Might I have a little time to think about all this?"

“Yeah, but...not too much, ok?”

“A day or two. Tops.” She smiles sympathetically and wipes a tear from Myka's cheek with her thumb. “Shall we sequester ourselves on the airbed by the window?"

Myka looks beyond Helena toward the corner. Her lips lift faintly at the ends. “Ok.”

Helena trails her hand down to finger a curl resting on Myka’s shoulder. She studies it intensely for a moment, then angles her eyes up to meet Myka’s. “Would you believe me if I said the last thing I want is to leave to you?”

“I believe you,” Myka says softly, her heart fluttering from the sincerity in Helena’s tone. She stills Helena’s hand with her own and squeezes it gently while gazing into Helena’s dark eyes. “You must be so scared."

Helena leans forward and impulsively presses her lips against Myka’s. Myka deepens the kiss and pushes Helena back until they’re both horizontal on the couch. The pair tangle urgently, heavy-handedly wrestling to express their desires all at once, as if the gravity of the situation just hit full force. But as the connection between them builds, their touches slow to a stop, their haste giving way to a quiet, harmonious intimacy. They lie motionless, bodies wrapped tightly together, breaths shallowing, sleep eventually winning them over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: That sweet spot before the whole world changes. More discussion about Helena’s fate and some fun with Christina at camp.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **More discussion about Helena’s fate and fun with Christina at camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lag in updating - still caught up in too-much-work-at-work madness.

——————————

> _I love New York, even though it isn’t mine, the way something has to be, a tree or a street or a house, something, anyway, that belongs to me because I belong to it._  
>  -Truman Capote

\-----------------

“M-y-k-a..."

Myka barely rouses from her unconscious state, fast asleep on the couch, at the sing-song-y sound of her name being called.

“Myka…” the voice’s volume rises. She feels fingers combing gently through her hair.

“Helena?" Myka mumbles. She lifts her head dazedly in the direction of the voice and opens her eyes just a crack.

“I have to go, love.”

“Where are you going?”

A blanket falls to the wayside as Myka hauls herself up into sitting position. She squints as she tries to focus on Helena and runs the tip of her tongue over dry lips.

“Perhaps forgot to mention…today is Christina and Erica's first day of Rock Camp for Girls."

“Right...” Myka says slowly, the word trailing off as she probes her mind for a memory of the event. She totally forgot that was a thing happening this summer. "Are you coming back after dropping them off?"

“I’m not. When we registered, I volunteered to help out for the week. To be honest, I'm curious what all the excitement is about," Helena says, sounding upbeat. She slides closer to Myka and takes hold of her hand. "And after recent events, I’d like to stay close to Christina.”

“Of course,” Myka replies. She studies Helena’s face, feeling somewhat hard pressed to imagine her as a camp counselor.

“Claudia’s out, so stay as long as you like. You’re welcome to anything in the house. I’ll call you tonight. There are things we need to discuss.” Helena leans forward and places a light but lingering kiss on Myka’s lips, then rises.

“Christina, we need to be off!”

Christina bounds out of her room carrying an overflowing backpack. She plops it on the coffee table and looks plaintively at Helena. “I can’t make the zipper close."

Helena bends down and digs through the bag. “Do you really need all this?"

“Yeah,” Christina replies in a matter-of-fact tone.

Helena stares at Christina circumspectly then flicks her eyes toward the clock in the kitchen. “We need to go. We’ll reassess tomorrow.” She forces the zipper closed and slings the backpack over her shoulder. “Say goodbye to Myka."

Christina circles the coffee table and lobs herself on the couch, falling forward in a heap as she throws her arms around Myka’s slack form. “Bye,” she says with a giggle.

“Bye, honey. Have fun today.” Myka wraps an arm around Christina and gives her an encouraging squeeze.

“I will!” Christina blurts. She slides off of Myka and onto the floor, wearing a silly grin.

Helena raises a brow and extends a hand. Christina scurries over to accept.

“Have a lovely day,” Helena says warmly to Myka, her dark eyes beaming with affection.

“You, too,” Myka replies, her lips forming a dozy, crooked grin.

As the door closes behind Helena and Christina, Myka flops to the side and pulls the blanket all the way up and over her head. Five more minutes, she thinks. Five more…she soon dozes off.

When she wakes a few hours later she lies, eyes open, musing over the pleasantries of the weekend in an attempt to ward off thoughts of her and Helena’s conversation last night. But heavier topics prevail in the end and she admits to herself they do need to talk, because now that her plan is “live," she can see its execution won’t be as simple as she thought.

Thoughts of the future lead her back to the present and her mind shifts toward her own issues at hand. She runs through a list of things she needs to finish but hasn’t started yet and feels suddenly overwhelmed. She sits up and thinks while she’d love to lounge in Claudia’s spacious, sun drenched apartment all day, she’d best be up and out sooner rather than later. She rises and cleans herself up, then gathers her things and takes her leave.

\--------

“Hello?” Myka answers warily as Claudia’s number appears on her phone later that evening.

“It’s me,” Helena replies airily.

Myka smiles, pleased that Helena’s calling earlier than expected: after dinner but before Christina’s bedtime.

“How was camp?”

“It’s doubtful I could describe the experience sufficiently over the phone. But the girls had a marvelous time."

Helena’s elongation of the word “marvelous” convinces Myka that it wasn’t only the girls who enjoyed the day.

"I believe Christina is learning to play the drums though I’m not sure how that bids toward the future of our ears. I tried to steer her toward something less boisterous, but the camp has a strict policy that instrument selection is the girls’ choice."

Myka snickers. Of course, Christina would pick the loudest thing possible.

“And speaking of the future…” Helena’s tone darkens.

Myka hears a door slide open and the sound of traffic in the distance. Helena must be moving to the terrace.

“I’d like for you know all the facts before we discuss your proposal further. I won't mince words; you deserve an explanation of the events that transpired over the last three weeks."

“Ok,” Myka replies. Helena’s grave tone leaves her feeling apprehensive; she’s suddenly not sure she wants to learn all the facts.

“As you know, there were two issues at hand. Giselle wasn't able to secure my work visa due to questionable information supplied with my original application. At that point, I was advised to leave the country on my own volition, in good faith, then reapply after a brief hiatus."

Interesting, Myka thinks. Abigail made Helena’s situation sound direr than Helena just described. She wonders if something was lost in translation, or maybe Claudia presented the information differently to Abigail.

“Soon after that, the trial came to a sudden end. My lawyer negotiated the best she could, but deportation was…shall we say the “cleanest" option. I am being charged with fraud and will be forbidden to enter the country for five years, though, with good behavior, I’m told I may shave a year or two off."

Myka covers her mouth with her hand, thinking five years seems like a long time to be exiled from a place you’ve made your home. Though she knew that was the case, having already done research on the consequences of deportation due to fraud, the reality of the situation stuns her far more than she’d imagined.

“I’ll take your silence as an indication your opinion of me has greatly altered."

“What? No,” Myka blurts. She hadn’t realized she’d been silent for very long. “I was just thinking…can you still finish school with a criminal record?”

She’s not sure why that’s the first thing she’s asking because she knows caring for Christina should is the priority, but it’s the first thing that came out of her mouth.

“I believe so, yes—"

“They won’t take Christina away from you, will they?”

She imagines Helena would have said something earlier if there was a problem, and isn’t sure who “they” are, but is remembering the details she found while researching were less than forthcoming.

“Not that I’m aware of. She is a dual citizen. She has options. My role as a caregiver has never been in question,” Helena answers defensively.

“Then the plan doesn’t change,” Myka says sharply.

Helena doesn’t immediately respond. Myka hears her shuffle across the terrace. “I apologize. I should have disclosed all of this yesterday but..."

The line goes silent. Myka waits patiently for Helena to continue and listens far too closely to the traffic noise traveling through her phone.

“As I stood in the door, watching Christina decipher her drawing for you, I thought...how lovely would it be, if just for a day, we might imagine ourselves lovers, negotiating the world together without all my nonsense hanging over our heads. A reprieve, so to speak; an afternoon of sanctuary."

“And we did. We really did,” Myka says reverently.

“Then you understand, I desperately wanted to hold onto that feeling for as long as I could. It was never my intention to keep you in the dark, but I do understand if you need to reassess—"

“I don’t,” Myka snaps, cutting Helena off before she finishes, feeling overcome by emotion from Helena’s admission. “I didn’t mean to sound harsh."

“You have every right to be angry."

“I’m not angry. I’m just…” Myka pauses briefly to collect her thoughts. “You realize that’s our future, right? All our days can be like that if we work together."

“An immeasurably distant future,” Helena mumbles.

“It’s measurable. Just not…immediate."

“Perhaps before Christina reaches the "sullen teenager" stage?"

“Definitely,” Myka answers, her tone a hair lighter. She thinks that might be the first glimmer of hope she’s heard in Helena’s voice for a long time.

“Why don’t I stop by after work tomorrow and we can talk more. I’ll bring dinner."

“Lovely. It’s a date."

\---------

Myka arrives Tuesday evening toting a large bag full of falafels and tabouli salad for everyone, including Claudia. While they eat, Christina regales the group with wild tales from camp, with the occasional clarification by Helena. Afterward, a mock drum set is constructed out of couch cushions, pillows and a small garbage can so Christina can “practice” and show off her new skills.

As the evening wanes, Christina is kindly asked to play in her room while Myka, Claudia, and Helena discuss Helena’s situation. After some back and forth, Claudia admits she’s intrigued by Myka’s proposed plan. She agrees something needs to be decided soon but says she needs some time to think it over.

Helena checks the time as the conversation winds down. She begins to rise, but Claudia jumps up first.

“No, no, no, sit,” Claudia orders. “I'll tuck the kid in."

“Thank you," Helena says graciously then lowers herself back onto the couch.

Claudia walks across the kitchen and enters Christina’s room. She closes the door.

Myka slides closer to Helena and takes hold of her hand. “Are you ok?”

“There's too many variables, too much risk all round, for all of us,” Helena says warily.

“We’ll be fine if we work together. Remember, you’re not alone in this. Not this time.” Myka looks directly at Helena, her green eyes shining with optimism.

Helena meets her gaze and smiles meekly. “How can I argue when you're looking at me like that."

“You can’t.” Myka places a brief kiss on Helena’s lips, feeling content to have won the debate, at least for now.

“Can you stay the night?"

“I wish, but I don’t have anything clean to wear to work tomorrow."

Helena pouts.

“I can stay tomorrow."

“I suppose that will have to do.” Helena slips her arm around Myka’s shoulder and pulls her close.

“Will you come to Christina’s recital on Saturday afternoon? It’s in Brooklyn, but not far from here. I know you have to work, but she’d be thrilled if you could attend."

“I'll leave work early. I’d love to come,” Myka answers. She snuggles closer to Helena. "Did I tell you I have two weeks of vacation coming up? I thought we could go somewhere together. All of us. Can you leave the city?"

“I’m not sure. I’ll look into it. Perhaps not over state lines."

“New York State is huge."

“That's true."

“Think about it, ok?” Myka requests. She lets out a yawn. “I should probably go.” She attempts to disengage from Helena, but Helena tightens her hold.

“You could come with me, you know,” Myka says suggestively. She brings Helena’s hand up to her mouth and lightly kisses the back while angling her eyes up to meet Helena's.

“Tempting, but I must deliver the girls in the morning. I’ll will keep it in mind for the imminent future."

\-----------

As fate would have it, the imminent future sees Myka sleeping at Helena’s for the next few days due to Helena's commitments at camp all week. But the transition is effortless, as if they’ve been doing it for months. Everyone is at ease.

In preparation for Wednesday night's sleepover, Helena cordons off part of the living room using fabric and screens and places the airbed near the window. Thursday night, a metal rolling rack materializes for Myka to hang her work clothes on, similar to the one Helena had in her old apartment. Friday night, an airbed of higher quality appears; one that rises further off the floor and doesn’t deflate overnight. Myka finds it more comfortable than the last, but misses her real bed, though inevitably decides sleeping next to Helena every night is worth the sacrifice.

Myka works a half day on Saturday and leaves as soon as she can to meet Helena at the venue in Williamsburg. She flags down a cab fairly quickly, but due to an accident on the bridge, arrives later than she’d like, but before performances have started.

Upon entry, she’s surprised by how large the venue is and the sheer number of girls and parents of all shapes, sizes and types in the audience. The vibe is casual, and she feels overdressed in her work clothes, but didn't didn’t bring anything else to change into, so what she’s wearing has to do. Thinking there’s no way she’ll find Helena in this crowd, she texts to say she’s there and stands to the side in the back of the room. Helena texts back and says to stay put. A few moments later, she feels arms snaking around her midriff and a chin on her shoulder.

“Welcome to the Jungle,” Helena purrs and nips Myka’s ear with her teeth.

“Someone’s in a Rock Camp kind of mood,” Myka playfully replies and turns to face Helena.

Helena immediately kisses Myka and takes hold of her hand. “Let’s go upstairs. The view’s better there. Plus, I have VIP privileges."

“Ooh, fancy,” Myka teases. “Is Christina upstairs too?"

“Not at the moment. Though, I am curious...can you find her without me telling you where she is?”

Myka accepts the challenge and stands on her tip toes while scanning the room. “She's over there, next to that woman with bright red hair.” Myka points with her eyes to an elevated area on the side.

“You’ve quite a talent for that, love,” Helena says reverently, her face lighting up with a broad grin. “The woman the crimson locks is her band coach and the girls next her are her bandmates.”

“How many bands are there?”

“More than I recall. But their sets are short, especially the young girls."

Myka twirls to face Helena and startled by the intense glow in Helena’s eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Helena announces louder than usual, to be heard over the music playing through the PA. She tightens her grip on Myka hand and tugs her forward, kissing her more thoroughly than before.

“Seriously, is that _all_ you two do?” A voice grumbles from behind.

Myka breaks the kiss and looks over Helena’s shoulder. She finds Claudia standing nearby, grinning sarcastically ear-to-ear, holding a drink in each hand.

“Hey, Claud,” Myka greets. She takes a step back.

“Hey, yourself. Nice that you could make it.” Claudia hands Helena her drink. “We better get upstairs, I heard the party's starting soon."

Claudia leads the group to the stairs. Helena keeps a firm grip on Myka’s hand as they weave through the crowd. As the reach the mezzanine, she spies Steve and Liam standing towards the front, leaning on the railing, waving in their direction.

“Hey guys,” Myka says cheerfully, once they’re in speaking distance.

“Hey, Myka,” Steve says in his usual even tone. His mouth forms a playful smirk as his eyes dart between Myka and Helena.

“Isn’t this awesome!” Liam exclaims over-enthusiastically. “Look at all these people! And the girls get to play on that huge stage. It’s just…so cool!"

“It is pretty cool,” Myka agrees calmly. She steps over to the railing and surveys the room. Her eyes land on Christina, who is drumming her sticks absently on the wall while lost in conversation with one of her bandmates.

Helena maneuvers next to Myka and slides an arm around her waist. She smiles as she notes Myka’s person of interest then hands Myka her drink while pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Watch this.” She types a message and hits send then looks toward Christina.

Christina stiffens, then pulls something phone-like out of her pocket. She looks at the screen then up at the mezzanine. Helena waves until Christina spies her. Myka waves, too. Christina jumps up and down and excitedly waves back.

“She has a phone?” Myka questions.

“Yes. Claudia gave it to her earlier today. I think she’s a little young for it, but it’s useful in these situations. She’s simply ecstatic."

Helena’s phone buzzes and she checks the screen. “Christina says hello, and she’s happy you’re here.” She shows the message to Myka. Myka smiles.

The DJ on stage wraps up, and a woman comes out to introduce the upcoming schedule of events. Claudia wiggles her way between Helena and Steve to get a better view, and Helena slips behind Myka to give Claudia more room. Helena sets her chin on Myka's shoulder and pulls her close. Myka feels a tingle of warmth run down her spine.

The show opens with the youngest girls first and Christina’s band performs third. Their song lasts less than two minutes though Myka is hard pressed to label it as a song; it's more an all-out assault on the senses. Helena explains that the girls were allowed to place their own structure on their creation, and while it might not be apparent to adults, there _is_ a structure present. The girls seem to understand it patently. Myka’s intrigued by the idea and decides it’s something she and Christina can discuss later.

Helena disappears shortly after Christina’s performance and arrives back twenty minutes later with Christina and Erica in tow. Myka now sees the girls are dressed in handmade t-shirts with the names of their bands scrawled across the front and matching leopard print leggings with high top Chuck Tailor sneakers.

“Liam was in charge of wardrobe, but the girls made their t-shirts in the art room at camp. My presence may or may not have influenced their craft,” Helena explains whimsically.

As the next band begins playing, Christina squirms her way toward the railing and wedges herself between Claudia and Myka. Myka places a hand lightly on Christina’s back and Christina shifts closer, so she’s touching Myka’s leg. When she’s not enraptured by the musicians on stage, Christina spews questions in both Claudia and Myka’s directions.

During a brief pause between bands, a woman approaches Helena and asks to talk. Helena steps away, and the two engage in a brief conversation. A few moments later she returns and speaks directly to Myka.

“Will you be alright on your own while I assist with the afterparty preparations downstairs?"

“Sure. How long do you think you’ll be?” Myka’s sad to hear Helena has to leave but understands she’s invested in helping make the event run smoothly.

“It depends on how many people are willing to help out.” Helena’s abruptly eyes light up. "Perhaps you might join me?"

“Sure. Why not,” Myka says, without giving the matter much thought.

Helena smiles exuberantly and gives Myka a peck on the cheek. “I’ll just let Claudia and Christina know, and we’ll be off.”

Helena guides Myka through the crowd and down two sets of stairs to a large basement bar. The other women present vary in age and dress: side mullets and tattoos mix with ponytails and hoop earrings, brightly colored miniskirts clash with olive drab cargo shorts, and flashy heels compete with combat boots. Helena’s state of dress lies somewhere in-between: her Chuck Taylor high tops match Christina's, and her black jeans are skin tight. She wears a thin, loose-fitting white t-shirt, screen printed with a black and white stencil of a city of her own design, printed as a demo for the girls to understand how to create their own. Myka feels positively corporate in comparison, clad in her usual dapper work clothes, but thinks her association with Helena should be enough to help her fit in.

Helena exchanges friendly banter as the group shares praise for all the girl’s performances this evening. Myka smiles bashfully, and her cheeks flush as Helena introduces her as “my dearest love, Myka.” Everyone is soon assigned a task and quickly gets to work. At first, Myka feels a little out of her element but loosens up as she shadows Helena as she unpacks boxes of snacks onto a table. As she hands Helena a box, their hands brush and she flashes a shaky smile.

“You alright?"

“Fine.” Myka stands all the way up but continues holding onto a box. “It's just…you’re like…a _mom_."

Helena raises a brow. “I believe I disclosed that fact rather early on in this relationship."

“You did, but I guess…I’ve never seen you in full on mom-mode."

Helena smiles graciously. “What do you make of it?"

“It’s nice. I mean, you seem really good at it,” Myka enthuses, feeling not very articulate at the moment. She sets the box on the table.

“That’s really lovely of you to say,” Helena replies sweetly. She takes a step toward Myka.

“Ladies, how’s it goin'?” a woman’s voice asks in an official sounding tone from across the table.

“All good,” Helena says fleetly, and swiftly opens the box.

“I don’t mean to rush you, but we're expecting the first wave of campers under ten minutes.”

“Then we’ll get a move on,” Myka promises. The woman seems sightly older than her an Helena, and Myka thinks she must be the director of the camp.

“Great. Thanks.” The woman begins to walk away but stops and turns to Myka. “You’re Myka, right?"

Myka nods, wondering how the woman knows her name. She’s pretty sure she hasn’t met her before.

"It’s really nice to meet you. We’ve heard a lot about you this week. Helena's been a big help. That groovy accent of hers sure kept the girls in line."

Myka turns to Helena, her lips forming a bemused grin. “You’re _such_ a mom. A hot, English mom, but—"

The sound of high-pitched squeals interrupts Myka’s thought. Everyone's attention swings to the stairwell. Myka and Helena immediately spring action.

The next hour is a frenzied blur of activity. Helena and Myka remain present at the table until the snacks run dry then they clean up. They mingle with campers and parents until the entire room is swept out onto the street for the venue to prepare for the evening show.

As the crowd dissipates, their little group condenses, and dinner plans are discussed on the fly.

“Is that hot dog place still here?” Steve asks.

“Which one?” Claudia shoots back.

“The one on…” Steve pauses to think for a moment. “Well, any of them."

“I know there’s one on Driggs. It’s the same as that one on St. Marks."

“Oh, right. I was thinking of something on Bedford. Or maybe north 7th?” He pulls out his phone to check.

Liam places a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Honey, I’m pretty sure those are both gone. Let’s just go to the place Claudia knows, so we’re not running around in circles."

“Good plan. Does that work for everyone?” Steve addresses the group.

Everyone agrees, and they all begin to walk east.

Christina drags Helena along in front. She and Erica relay their day to Helena in dueling rapid fire. Steve and Liam trail behind, listening to the girls banter, but not interrupting. Claudia and Myka bring up the rear.

“You’re taking H.G. home, right?” Claudia inquires brashly.

“To your place? Aren’t we all going?"

“No, to yours."

“But, Christina?"

“I got this. You handle miss rock-star mom of the month,” Claudia offers. She flashes a cheeky smile.

“Are you sure?” Myka can’t believe she might have Helena to herself for the night.

“Look at her. She's so friggin’ happy, she’s gonna explode. She’s all yours. I’ll call you mañana to check in.” Claudia tips her chin in Helena’s direction.

Myka looks toward Helena, and at that very moment, Helena glances back. As their eyes meet, an incandescent smile lights up Helena’s face and Myka’s spirits soar. She feels herself tearing up with joy at the sight Helena enjoying herself so much. This _is_ our future, she thinks. At this moment, she has no doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The clock is ticking for Helena, but in the meantime, more fun is had by all.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The clock is ticking for Helena, but in the meantime more fun is had by all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update. Buried in work...hopefully it will clear up a bit mid-April and I'll have more time to devote to this. The next update might not be for a few weeks, but in the meantime, I'm thinking of posting a short fix-it I've been working on.

——————————

> _Sometimes, from beyond the skyscrapers, the cry of a tugboat finds you in your insomnia, and you remember that this desert of iron and cement is an island._  
>  Albert Camus

——————————

Post hot dog dining, Helena and Myka take a car service back to Myka’s and immediately fall into bed together. Their thirst for each other is as urgent as the previous Saturday, but tonight there’s a sureness of touch borne of a week of patient restraint, heightened by the cheerful events of the day. Myka feels lightheaded as she gazes into Helena’s eyes, noting their color has shifted toward a warm sepia from their usual dark umber. And at some point in the evening, she decides she and Helena have moved past the “let’s do this for now” stage and are holding steady near “let's do this forever."

They spend a lazy morning in bed, debating the possibility of breakfast but never acting on it, neither allowing the other to rise for too long. They doze on and off until their blissful haze is broken by the buzz of Helena's phone.

“Bollocks,” Helena huffs. Rolling out to bed, she digs the phone out of her pocket then flings herself back and lays her head on Myka’s pillow.

Myka hears a voice talking before Helena manages to say hello.

“That's fine,” Helena answers briefly. 

The voice drones on.

“Are you sure?” She abruptly sits up and listens closely. “I won’t say no to that,” she agrees heartily.

The voice continues to talk. Helena rubs her chin.

“I’ll see you in the morning then.” Helena hangs up and turns to Myka. “That was Claudia. She’s picking up Christina from Erica’s after dinner and said she’ll watch her this evening. I'll need to get back early, but I can stay the night again."

“Really?” Myka blurts excitedly.

“Really,” Helena repeats positively.

Helena gives Myka a quick peck on the cheek, then slides out of bed and slips on Myka’s robe. She moves toward the door but stops before exiting.

“Don’t you dare move an inch,” she growls, raising a brow in Myka’s direction

“Or what?” Myka quips.

“There’ll be consequences.”

“Consequences, huh?" Myka teases. "Do these consequences happen to involve breakfast? Because I’m starving.”

Helena flashes a wry, crooked grin. “Not my first thought but I’ll consider it on my way back." 

Helena exits the room. 

Myka sinks into the bed and closes her eyes, feeling utterly self-satisfied to have Helena to herself for the whole day. The thought idly crosses her mind that in previous relationships the gesture meant little to her. She never knew how precious time could really be.

Helena returns swiftly, bearing unfortunate news. “As far as I can tell, there’s no breakfast to be had."

“I've been at your place all week,” Myka says. "I can run out and grab some stuff."

"I am a bit peckish,” Helena announces, then slides the robe off of her shoulders and drops it in a pool to the floor. "But I believe at present, there is no rush. Breakfast can wait."

An hour or so later, the women rise in earnest, and Myka journeys out of the house to acquire coffee and lunch. The cafe she frequents is crowded and her order takes longer to fill than she’d like, but a smile crosses her face as she’s reminded Helena's spending the night again. A few minutes later, a woman at the counter calls her name and hands her a paper bag. She soon makes her way back to her apartment feeling giddy about the day.

The moment she steps in the door she feels something has changed. Setting her keys and the bag on the counter, she walks toward the main room and instead of one person, finds three people present.

“Myka!” Helena exclaims a little too emphatically as she spots Myka across the room. "I’ve just met your housemates,” she adds with a slight edge in her tone.

Clothed in only Myka’s robe, Helena reclines in the corner of the couch, legs bare and elegantly crossed. Charlotte lounges adjacent to Helena while Bennett sits nearby on a matching arm chair.

“You told us Helena was English, but you never said from where,” Charlotte says to Myka. “As it turns out, we went to the same school."

“Not the same class, mind you. Charlotte here is much older than I,” Helena promptly retorts.

“As Mrs. Winslow-Barnes often said, a true lady never discloses her real age,” Charlotte quips, her voice taking on a wobbly, aristocratic bent.

Helena snickers. “Dear lord, she was ancient, wasn't she?"

“A true relic,” Charlotte offers earnestly, her tone filled with a satirical mirth. 

Helena chuckles and Charlotte sniggers in return. The two women soon burst into laughter.

Myka eyes Bennett plaintively, as if he’ll have an explanation for this sudden outburst.

Bennett shrugs. “Like peas in a pod, those two,” he pronounces.

Myka flicks her eyes between Charlotte and Helena, but her mind falls short equating the two. She's more familiar with Helena than Charlotte but is fairly certain Bennett’s observation is not very likely.

As the laughter dies down, Helena bunches the lapels of her robe to cover her chest and lets her arm hang down. “Charlotte and Bennett just told me they recently found out Charlotte’s pregnant,” she says to Myka.

"We’re having a baby!” Bennett blurts excitedly. He grips the armrests of his chair and lifts slightly in Myka’s direction.

“Who is this ‘we' you keep mentioning?” Charlotte grumbles while glaring at Bennett. "I’m the one tasked with housing the child for the next nine months. Your role is comparatively minimal.” 

“You’re right, of course, my love. Terribly sorry,” Bennett grovels. He lowers back into his seat.

Charlotte grimaces and glances at Helena. “You know what this is all about. Explain to my husband the harrowing details one goes through whilst pregnant."

Helena glances at Myka and raises a brow. “Perhaps over lunch?” she questions. 

Myka’s eyes widen. “Lunch. Right. On it.” She wafts into the kitchen and swiftly pulls two plates from the cabinet. 

Myka watches from a distance and winces more than once as Helena describes in graphic detail the changes a woman’s body goes through while pregnant. Bennett’s face blanches and Charlotte stares in wonder as Helena gesticulates in front to her belly, indicating just how large she was with Christina, then lists the ailments she suffered as her due date approached. She segues into her experiences with labor just as Myka arrives with sandwiches and drinks.

“Maybe we can save that for later?” Myka asks politely and nudges Helena over so she can sit next to her.

Helena glances at her sandwich. “Agreed."

“I'll look forward to more later, then. We need be off,” Charlotte quips. She glares harshly at Bennett.

“It’s not my fault, you know. People attend barbecues all the time.”

“But on a Sunday. And in Queens." Charlotte whines.

“He’s my brother. What am I meant to do."

“Tell him we’re working."

“We’re always working. There are times when we must participate in activities with other humans, love."

“I don’t consider your brother human."

Bennett sighs. “If we do this now, we won’t have to again for a year. Or ever, once the baby's here."

“Very well,” Charlotte concedes. She rises. “Lovely to meet you, Helena. We hope to see more of you in the future.”

Charlotte extends a hand. Helena shakes it lightly.

“Pleased meet you as well. Have a lovely time at your soiree."

Bennett rises. “Everything she said goes for me, too,” he says with sincerity. He also shakes Helena’s hand.

Charlotte and Bennett disappear into another part of the apartment.

Myka eyes Helena apologetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know they’d be home. They’re never home."

“Their sudden appearance did startle me, but I’m glad to have met them. I find it amusing to meet the Charlottes of the world now that we’re now all grown up."

“But we were supposed to have the whole day to ourselves,” Myka whines.

“And we will. They’ll be gone soon, and back late,” Helena offers in answer.

“But tonight..."

Helena lays her hand gently on Myka's arm. “We’ll be more conservative."

Myka pouts. 

Helena leans forward and kisses her reassuringly. “It'll be all right, love. We’ll still be together,” she offers in resolution, her eyes aglow. “I’m starving. Let’s eat."

\------------------

Early Monday morning, Myka and Helena head back into the city and exit together at the subway stop nearest Claudia’s apartment. Helena plucks Myka's overnight bag from her hand and the two linger, flirting shamelessly, kissing goodbye several times over before walking off in opposite directions. 

It’s unusual for Myka to work on a Monday, but today the entire staff is assembling to meet with Vanessa before she’s gone for the rest of August. Myka meets with Vanessa solo afterward to discuss both personal and gallery business, then attends to a stack of papers on her desk for the rest of the afternoon. The day proves more hectic that she thought, but she manages to leave a little early as a reward for all of her hard work.

She walks directly to Claudia’s and enters on her own accord with her newly minted keycard. The smell of meat grilling causes her mouth water first thing in the door and she spontaneously moves toward the terrace where she imagines Helena must be stationed cooking. She slips out onto the terrace and leans casually on the door, watching silently as Helena and Christina converse.

“Let me do it, let me do it!” Christina grumbles, perched on her stepstool next to the grill.

“All right. But be careful. Try not to drip too heavily into the flames.”

Helena turns to collect a bowl from the table and spies Myka in the process. As their eyes meet, her entire face lights up with a disarmingly warm smile.

“Well, hello there,” she greets seductively.

“Hey,” Myka replies casually, her eyes sparkling as they hold onto Helena’s.

“Mom, hurry up! It’s been thirty minutes,” Christina bellows.

“A few more won’t hurt.”

Helena swings around and places the bowl next to Christina on the sideboard. She slips an oven mitt on one hand and grasps a pair of large tongs with the other.

“Are you ready?” Helena buzzes. She claps the tongs together like a claw and tousles Christina’s hair with her mitted hand.

“Moooom…” Christina whines.

“Careful, now, while I open this.” Helena warns. She shields Christina as she lifts the lid and a plume of steam wafts past. As it dissipates, she looks directly at Christina. “Let's do this in order, shall we? I'll pick up the brick, then you baste. I’ll turn the hen, then you baste again. After that, I’ll replace the brick."

“Got it,” Christina answers and nods her head tersely.

Christina grabs the brush lying in the bowl and Helena lifts a foil wrapped brick with her mitted hand. Christina marinates the bird, then Helena turns it. Myka watches closely as the pair repeats the process then her attention wanders toward a display of several bowls of side dishes on a nearby table.

“This is pretty fancy for a Monday. What’s the occasion?” she asks.

“Retributions,” Helena explains.

“For what?" 

“Someone was promised a barbecue yesterday, and someone else seems to have forgotten entirely,” Helena says informationally. 

“Oh, sorry,” Myka offers apologetically, but with a knowing smirk.

“No worries, love. I believe proper reparations have been made,” Helena reassures. She places her oven-mitted hand on Myka’s shoulder and kisses her hello.

“I also believe someone’s watched far too much of the Food Channel these days.” She points with her eyes to Christina. 

“Brick chicken!” Christina shouts at Helena. She smiles smugly.

“Hens,” Helena corrects. “Cornish hens."

“Whatever they are, they smell amazing! I’m super excited for dinner,” Myka gushes.

“Me too!” Christina agrees. She flashes Myka a toothy grin.

Claudia arrives in short order and the gang sits together on the terrace, chatting until the hens are ready. While they eat, Christina relays the preparation of the birds in vivid detail, until Helena interrupts.

“Perhaps it’s best to leave the gorier intricacies of the meal until after we’ve eaten, dear."

“But giblets are so cool! They’re hearts and livers and stuff. And on TV, they said you can put them in the blender to make gravy."

“My daughter, future chef. Or, perhaps, chief medical examiner,” Helena taunts. She glances plaintively at Myka. 

Myka snickers and smiles at Christina.

The group eats quietly for several minutes until Helena offhandedly clears her throat.

“I spoke with several schools in the UK today."

Claudia and Myka freeze in place. Both gape, wide-eyed at Helena.

“It seems many have places on courses for ‘mature’ students in my predicament,” Helena explains. "Not my _exact_ predicament, per se, but for older persons with reputable academic credentials.” She flashes an innocent grin.

Myka and Claudia continue to stare, stunned. Neither says a word.

“Once I get hold of my transcripts, I'll send off applications. I imagine there's no harm in giving it a go,” Helena says matter-of-factly. She attempts to sound casual but doesn’t quite pull it off.

“That’s great!” Myka replies a little too emphatically, but with genuine enthusiasm. 

“Agreed,” Claudia adds, without a hint of snark. She nods lightly up and down in approval. “Really great."

Myka feels a swell pride knowing Helena just made her first big step toward taking control of her life. But her mirth soon fades as the reality of Helena’s eminent departure flashes forward. While she wants to hear more about Helena’s options, she decides to shift topics, thinking it'd be best to discuss something more manageable with Christina present.

“Before I forget…my boss, Vanessa, said we could stay at her beach house this weekend if we wanted. There’s room for all of us. Steve, Liam and Erica could come, too."

“Your boss is a rich lady, right? So, like, snotty Hamptons or yuppie Montauk?” Claudia grumbles.

“Neither. Shelter Island. The house has been in her family for years."

“Huh. Cool.” Claudia's tone warms.

"It’s kind of a hike to get out there, but she said we could stay Friday through Monday.”

“Well, I’m in,” Claudia immediately answers. She glances at Christina. "Whattaya think kid? Beach?” 

“Beach!” Christina excitedly blurts.

“Helena?” Myka queries.

“ _You_ are quite the force of nature, are you not?” Helena chides with a half smile.

Myka shrugs and smirks bashfully.

“Of course. Sounds lovely.” Helena glances at Claudia. “Could you talk with the boys?"

“On it.” Claudia whips out her phone and swiftly relocates inside.

“There’s something else, but...” Myka side-eyes Christina.

Helena nods lightly. “Christina, dear, why don't you feed Dewy."

“I did, before dinner,” Christina answers.

“Well, why don’t you give him a top up, anyway. And new water. Perhaps clean his bowl?"

“Ok,” Christina says defeatedly. She slides off her chair and scuttles toward the apartment. Once she’s safely inside, Myka continues.

“I have the name of a lawyer. A good one. Vanessa suggested."

Helena’s expression flattens.

“I didn’t go into detail, I only said you were having visa problems. You can talk to the lawyer confidentially, get another opinion. Tell her Vanessa sent you.” Myka hands a business card to Helena.

Helena carefully inspects the card then glances at Myka. “I’m afraid, at this juncture, there's not much to be done."

“But a pair of fresh eyes might be good. If not for now, for the future,” Myka pleads. She reaches across the table and takes hold of Helena’s hand.

“And I thought, maybe…” She angles her eyes down and examines Helena’s hand. “You could ask about your inheritance. Who knows what laws might have changed since you last looked into it."

Helena’s fingers clench but Myka holds fast.

“Think about it, ok? For Christina’s sake."

“Erica’s coming with us to the beach!” Christina announces with a shout as she bounds out the door. She runs across the terrace and throws her arms around Helena’s torso.

Helena bends to the side and hauls Christina up, onto her lap. Helena tickles her sides andChristina squirms and squeals. 

“Imagine two of these, for four days, in an enclosed space. Think you can you handle that?” Helena elaborates. She raises a brow at Myka. 

“I’ll have plenty of help, right?” 

\------------------

The next three days fly by.

Helena and Myka visit Vanessa’s lawyer as soon as possible. Myka held out a glimmer of hope when Vanessa passed over her lawyer’s information, thinking she must know a way around Helena’s deportation woes. But after a quick review of the paperwork from Helena’s trial, the lawyer agrees the best course of action is for Helena to leave the country and work from the outside to get back in. She admits she's intrigued by Helena’s inheritance situation, and says she’ll look into it further, stating she might know someone who can help.

Helena speaks in depth with several schools in England and is told while it’s quite late in the season to be applying, if she gets her materials in soon, she may find a place on a course in the fall. She spends the week researching classes, filling out applications and securing transcripts. 

The sight of Helena curled up on the couch typing away on a laptop is odd, Myka thinks, but in truth, Helena seems comfortable, as if falling back on old patterns. She decides the Helena of old must have whiled away countless hours like this, the blue light from the screen illuminating her highly focused face.

Thursday night, Myka returns to her own apartment to pack. They've rented a minivan for the trip and she's scheduled to be picked up early the next morning. Unfortunately, the group arrives later than planned, shattering their hopes of beating the masses escaping the city. 

As she heaves herself into the back of the van, she's surprised to find Helena behind the wheel, though she’s not sure why. Claudia sits shotgun, barking directions while Liam and Steve cuddle in the middle. Myka's herded into the back and jammed next to Christina and Erica, both yammering nonstop while immersed in a game on Christina’s new phone.

Myka eyes the girls warily and has a brief flashback to road trips with her family, remembering her and her sister stuffed in the back seat of her parent's car. Christina and Erica’s relationship seems nothing like her and Tracy's, but nevertheless, she imagines this is going to be a long drive. Two and a half hours in fact, without traffic. And then there’s a ferry. She’s already rethinking her answer to Helena’s earlier question of whether she can actually handle two eight-year-olds in an enclosed space.

Four hours and several rest stops later, the group pull into the driveway of a small, weathered, two-story house and tumble immediately out of the van. Bags are dragged into the house and dropped in the living room. Liam, Steve, and Claudia all plop on the couch while Myka takes adjacent love seat. Helena and the girls investigate the scene.

“Nice,” Helena declares as she descends the stairs. “Quite modest actually. Serviceable.” She strides across the kitchen and opens the sliding glass door. “And there’s grill,” she says, scanning the deck.

“You’re making me nervous flying around like that. Would you just sit?” Myka grumbles from across the room.

“Sorry,” Helena replies. She crosses the kitchen and promptly joins Myka on the love seat.

“Why aren’t you tired? You’ve been driving all day."

“It’s been ages since I've left the city. And honestly, I love to travel,” Helena says in a heartfelt tone.

Christina and Erica come bounding down the stairs and chase each other around the island in the open plan kitchen, giggling. They then run into the living room and jump on their respective parents.

Christina promptly wriggles her way between Helena and Myka.

“I’m hungry,” Christina announces.

“Me, too,” Erica agrees.

“There’s snacks,” Steve offers.

“We had those already. I want something else,” Erica whines.

“Me, too,” Christina agrees.

“We should probably go to the shop sooner rather than later,” Helena proclaims.

“But we just got here. I don’t wanna get in the car again,” Christina moans. She dramatically flops over on Helena's lap.

“If you’d like to select what we’ll be grilling, then you must come along."

Christina perks up. “I get to pick whatever I want?"

“We’ll discuss the matter together, in the shop."

“But I get to pick."

“Perhaps."

“I don’t wanna go if I don’t get to pick."

Helena sighs. “You may pick one item. it would be polite to let others choose, as well.” She looks around the room for confirmation.

“Can Erica come, too?” Christina asks innocently.

“Sure,” Liam answers.

“You should go with them,” Steve tells Liam.

“Why me?”

“Why not?"

“Fine,” Liam pouts. “You coming Claud?"

“I’m in. I'm down with the kid picking dinner, but I don't trust that one as far as I can throw her.” Claudia narrows her eyes at Helena.

Helena glares back. “Let’s go before someone gets even ‘hangrier'.” She grimaces in Claudia’s direction.

“We’ll settle in here,” Myka offers cheerfully, attempting to lighten the mood. She looks over at Steve.

“Yeah. What she said,” Steve adds.

Helena gives Myka a peck on the cheek and rises from the couch. “Everyone ready?” She glances at Liam then Erica. They both nod. “Let’s go."

“Call us if you need anything,” Helena advises Myka.

The group piles out of the house and into the car.

“They're gone,” Steve says calmly, as he notes Myka’s glazed look. “You can relax."

Myka's shoulders slump at the sound of the engine starting. She finds Steve’s words soothing, hopeful even, but at this point, thinks it’s doubtful much of the weekend will qualify as relaxing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Beach! And Helena confronts her feelings for Myka while some hard decisions about the future are made.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Beach! And Helena confronts her feelings for Myka while some hard decisions about the future are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s been ages since I updated, super busy on the flipside here. I’d say sorry for the cliffhanger but I had to do something to lure you back!

—————————

> _It is ridiculous to set a detective story in New York City. New York City is itself a detective story._  
>  -Agatha Christie

\---------------

Christina and Erica are the first to stir the following morning. Feeling hungry, they decide they’d be allowed to make toast by themselves, and take the initiative, but neglect to change the toasting level, so the toast burns. The smell quickly wafts through the house, causing the adults to rise in short order.

Breakfast is a simple, leisurely affair: toast, bacon, eggs, multiple pots of coffee, all eaten together on the deck. Post meal, the adults read the paper while the girls play in the yard.

Myka and Steve clean up while the remaining gang dresses and packs for the beach. When ready, everyone congregates in the living room.

Myka joins the group last, emerging from the bedroom holding a small tote bag. She sees Liam and Steve double checking their supplies while Helena sits on the couch applying sunscreen to Christina.

“Hey, can I get some of that?” Myka asks Helena.

Helena glances at Myka and her eyes widen. Myka’s turquoise bikini shows off every inch of her long legs and sensuous curves while a flowing thin red blouse covers her arms. A wide-brimmed sun hat tops off the outfit, tugged snugly over her curls.

As Helena gapes, her hands still on Christina’s back for a few seconds too long.

“Mom, am I done?” Christina asks.

Helena startles out of ogling and hurries to finish up. “Done.” She gives Christina a pat on the back and Christina totters off.

Myka saunters over and perches on the arm of the couch with her back facing Helena. She slips the red blouse off of her shoulder and angles her head toward Helena. “My turn.“

Helena’s eyes scorch a path down Myka’s newly exposed flesh, then back up, meeting Myka’s sultry gaze. She swiftly turns in her seat to address the group.

“Gentleman,” Helena announces.

Steve and Liam look up from their bags.

“And lady.”

Claudia glances at Helena.

“A proposal.”

Claudia narrows her eyes.

“Myka and I will stay behind while you accompany the girls for the morning. We’ll swap in the afternoon.“

Steve and Liam look at each other and simultaneously smile.

Claudia opens her mouth to protest, but Helena raises a finger. “After you drop us off the beach, you can take the car anywhere you like and do as you please, then pick us up later.”

“Mmm, ok,” Claudia hesitantly agrees. She looks at Steve and Liam.

“Deal,” Liam says to Helena.

Helena's smile in return is dazzling.

Myka and Helena help pack the car and wave goodbye as the minivan drives off. Once out of visual range, Helena threads a finger under Myka’s bikini strap.

“Let’s get inside and get you out of this lovely item.“

————————

Several hours later, Myka’s head lands with a thump on Helena’s chest, having just finished having her way with Helena for the second time this morning. Feeling sweaty and sated, she lies with an ear on Helena’s ribs, relishing to the sound her heart beating out of control, delighted by the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she struggles to catch her breath.

“I love doing that to you.” Myka enthuses. “We should do it more often.”

“Indeed,” Helena answers, between labored breaths.

The gravelly sound the car pulling into in the driveway interrupts their moment of bliss.

“Bollocks,” Helena groans. She blows out a frustrated breath and tries to rise, but Myka holds her down.

“Stay. I got this,” Myka instructs. She gives Helena a quick kiss on the lips then sits up and positions herself to straddle Helena’s legs. Folding back on her knees, she smiles radiantly as she takes in the sight of Helena’s slack, lithe form stretching out in front of her.

She bends forwards and glides a finger from Helena’s clavicle to her belly button. Helena doesn’t move a muscle. “I’ve never seen you so relaxed.”

“Indeed,” Helena affirms. Her eyes close as her lips curl up, forming a disarmingly satisfied grin.

Myka slides off Helena, then off the bed entirely and quickly slips on a pair of shorts and a top. She moves toward the door as she hears the beachgoers populating the kitchen.

“Come out whenever you’re ready,” she says before exiting.

“Indeed,” Helena mumbles under her breath and turns to the side, pulling the thin top sheet all the way up and over her head.

——–

After lunch, the boys stay behind and the girls travel to a different beach than the one visited in the morning. Claudia decides to join in and parks the van next to the road. They unpack swiftly and carry their gear down a path to a less crowded, semi-secluded area.

The slog through the mid-day sun leaves everyone overheated, and once a secure location is agreed upon, they jettison their gear and promptly jump into the ocean. After an initial swim, the group sets up their spot by laying out several blankets and opening a large umbrella. Helena, Christina, and Erica begin to make a sand castle while Myka lounges under the umbrella with a book. Claudia sits cross-legged next to Myka and pulls her iPad out of her bag.

Several minutes later, the castle is abandoned in favor of a jaunt.

“The girls and I are going to do some beach combing. Would anyone like to join us?” Helena asks.

“I’ll stay and hold down the fort,” Claudia answers. She glances at Myka. “Princess?“

Myka smirks sarcastically then looks at Helena. “I’d like to stay that’s ok. I’m a little worn out.”

“Of course,” Helena says knowingly. Her lips rise suggestively at the ends.

Claudia rolls her eyes and goes back to her iPad.

Christina and Erica jet down the beach. Helena waves goodbye before taking off after them.

Myka cheerful expression fades as she watches the group recede into the distance. “She’ll be ok with whatever happens, right?” she says casually to Claudia.

Claudia looks up from her iPad. “Who. Christina? Yeah. Kids are tough. She’ll be cranky for awhile, but she’ll adapt no matter what. I mean look at me? I went through a million foster homes, and I turned out awesome.” She puffs out her chest.

Myka smiles approvingly. “I meant Helena.”

“Oh, her? Uh-uh.“ Claudia’s posture slumps. "She’s gonna be miss crazy pants one she’s over there, but we’ll figure it out.” 

Claudia's turns her attention back to her iPad as it blinks. 

Myka wants to ask Claudia to elaborate but decides to leave the conversation for a later date. Instead, she studies Claudia for a moment and contemplates her presence on this semi-romantic family weekend.

“Claud, do you ever….”

Claudia angles her eyes toward Myka.

“Do you ever get sick of hanging around with couples? Or dealing with other people’s kids?“

Claudia lays the iPad down and gives Myka her full attention. “I know I rag on you guys for all that lovey-dovey crap, but it’s kinda nice to be around, you know? I didn’t grow up with stuff like that, and it’s cool to be a part of, especially for the kid.”

Myka smiles at the warmth in Claudia’s tone.

“Plus, I’m loving you kicking crazy pant’s ass into shape with all this. If you weren’t here and this went down? I’d be slapping her silly, and that wouldn’t be great with the kid and all. I mean look at her now, happy as a clam.“

Myka glances towards the beach and admits to herself Claudia is right; Helena does seem happy. But for how long, she wonders. With Christina’s future still undecided, she imagines everyone's feeling the weight of more than a few doubts.

“Are you really ok with being a parent if Christina stays? I know it was my idea, and I don’t want to push you into anything you don’t want to do. Plus, I’m going to need some help.”

“No sweat,“ Claudia replies. "I’ll admit loving winding her up then pawning her off on H.G. but at the end of the day, we’re square, ya know? She knows who changed her diapers back in the day.”

“So you think it’ll work?”

“With you in the mix? Totally. You’re, like, uber-responsible babe, with the fancy desk job and everything. You’ll get the hang of it in no time.“

“Thanks,” Myka says humbly.

The two settle into a friendly silence. Claudia turns back to her iPad and Myka returns to her book. Myka tries to concentrate but instead finds herself lulled into a light slumber by the soft rhythm of waves gently cresting and breaking in the distance.

An indeterminate amount of time later, she’s jostled awake by Christina falling onto the blanket, thrusting something in front of her face.

“Look what we found!” Christina blurts excitedly.

Myka props herself on one elbow and takes a palm-sized shell from Christina’s hand.

“Wow. It’s huge! And pretty,” Myka enthuses.

“It’s for you.”

“It is? Thank you.”

Myka flashes a bright, crooked grin and notices Helena’s legs have appeared behind Christina. Her eyes trail up, raking past Helena’s tiny boy short bottoms, lingering on her firmly toned midriff, then traveling further up, over her bikini top, resting on her smugly grinning face.

“That’s what I’m told,” Helena relays with a twinkle in her eye.

“Christina, boat!” Erica shouts from beyond the blanket.

Christina looks to where Erica is pointing. “Cool!” she shouts back then runs off. Before traveling too far away, she stops and turns to Myka. “Thanks for bringing us to the beach!” she says, then continues running.

Helena parks herself on the blanket next to Myka.

“Did you tell her to say that?” Myka asks.

“I did not.”

“Huh,” Myka mutters thoughtfully. She turns the shell over and studies it in her hand.

“She’s quite fond of you,” Helena states.

“I’m fond of her, too.“ Myka sets down the shell and leans toward Helena, kissing her firmly but briefly on the mouth. "I’m also fond of you.”

Claudia breaks her voluntary silence by letting out an exasperated sigh. “I’m going for a swim,” she announces and slides her iPad into her bag.

She stands and shouts to the girls. “Ladies, let’s hit the surf! Last one in gets sand down their pants.” She winks at Myka while passing then runs towards Erica and Christina.

Helena immediately locks lips with Myka and pushes her back until she’s lying flat. “I’m quite fond of you,” she says lovingly while threading a curl behind Myka's ear. She eyes Myka's lips and soon dips in for another kiss.

—————-

Later that evening, a grand meal is prepared from the ingredients bought the evening before. Helena and Christina man the grill, cooking steak, corn and other vegetables while Steve, Liam and Erica make a large salad in the kitchen. Myka and Claudia run interference and set the table. Everyone eats together on the deck.

After the plates are cleared, Liam suggests playing a game. The outdoor table proves to windy, so the gang move indoors and populate the kitchen table. The game is unpacked and found to accommodate only six players, so Helena opts out and saying she’ll watch from a distance while tidying up from the meal.

The game is unfamiliar to Myka, but old hat to the rest of the group. A band of plastic is placed on your head that holds a card with a drawing of an item on it. The card is picked from a stack and wedged into the band facing out. The person wearing the card asks the group questions to guess what it being displayed.

By a unanimous vote, it’s decided Myka should go first since she’s never played before. A minute timer filled with sand is turned over, and Myka starts with the sample questions provided with the game.

“Do I have legs?” Myka asks.

All eyes point toward Myka’s forehead. Everyone shakes their heads no.

“Could I be a pet?”

“Nope,” says Claudia.

“Am I an animal?“

Erica giggles. Liam shakes his head.

“Can I swim?”

“Noooo,” Christina exaggerates.

“Do I make noise?“

Steve looks at Liam. “Er, kind of? When you’re being used.”

“Ok.” Myka tilts her head thoughtfully and decides the information is not very useful.

“Can I be eaten?“

"Uh-uh,” Liam notes.

"But you have something to do with a mouth,” Steve adds.

“We’re only supposed to say yes or no, honey,” Liam scolds.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

Myka continues. “Do I have hair?“

The table stares at Myka’s card.

“Nada,” Claudia quips.

“Am I a person?”

“Do I fly?“

“Am I a vegetable?”

“Am I heavy?“

“Am I alive?”

“Times up!” Christina blurts.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be. The questions weren’t very helpful,” Myka grumbles

“You need to be more imaginative,” Helena offers from the kitchen.

“I’m just following the rules,” Myka explains. She waves the card with questions at Helena. “Why don’t you come over here and help me?”

“I’m rather busy,” Helena chirps. She waves a grease laden spatula in return.

Myka scrunches up her nose. “Fine.”

“I’ll help,” Christina offers eagerly.

“Thank you,” Myka says and throws Helena dirty look.

Helena juts out her lip, then grins playfully. She goes back to cleaning the kitchen.

Myka scoots over, and Christina climbs next to her on her chair.

“You have to ask different questions. And faster,” Christina explains.

“Ok.“

The timer is started again, and Myka again asks questions, this time riffing off of Christina’s advice in her ear. Before the minute is up, Myka blurts out “toothbrush,” and everyone cheers.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this, thanks to you,” she tells Christina. She wraps her arm around her and gives her a squeeze.

“You’re welcome,” Christina says, flashing a satisfied grin. She snuggles into Myka’s side and points to the pile of cards. “Pick a new one.”

Myka picks a card and places it on her forehead. “Who’s next?“

As the group argues for a moment over whether to go left or right, Myka glances at Helena. Helena leans on the kitchen counter, watching the scene play out, her expression unreadable, seemingly amused and unsettled at the same time.

“Myka, we’re starting,” Christina announces, and Myka’s attention moves to the game.

“Who’s turn is it?”

“Steve’s"

Myka focuses on Steves card. “Ok. Let’s go.”

Laughter rises from the table, and the questions turn ever more absurd as the contestants enter their second round, the game hitting full swing.

As the third round approaches, Myka glances toward the kitchen finds Helena not present. It’s odd for her to have wandered off, she thinks but decides she must be outside cleaning the grill. She slides laterally off her chair and rises.

“I’ll be back. I just want to see if Helena needs help cleaning up,” she announces. “If I’m not back in time, take my turn for me,” she says to Christina.

“Ok.“ Christina slips fully onto the chair.

Myka takes off her plastic headband and lays her card on the table face down. She walks toward the kitchen and exits onto the deck, where she finds Helena staring off into space, sitting on a bench located next to the house.

“Hey,” Myka greets softly. “You ok?”

“Fine, thank you,” Helena says absently. She continues to stare into the distance.

As her eyes adjust to the dimming evening light, Myka studies Helena’s face more closely. “You’re crying,” Myka notes worriedly. She circles around and sits next to Helena.

“I suppose I am,” Helena mumbles. She casually wipes a stray tear from her cheek.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Helena shakes her head back and forth in tiny strokes.

“Something. Obviously. Talk to me.“

Helena looks down at her hands, and tilts her head thoughtfully, wetting her lips before she speaks. “Watching you all, in there, together…it’s heartening to know she’ll be all right for a little while without me.”

Myka sits up straighter. “You decided she should stay?“

Helena looks up, her eyes welling with tears. “Yes.”

Myka reaches out and cups Helena’s face. “She’ll miss you like crazy, but we’ll take good care of her. I promise.“ She wipes a tear from Helena’s cheek with her thumb. “We’ll all miss you. And we’ll visit. We’ll visit a lot.”

Helena gives a small, strained smile. "Your unwavering optimism through all of this simply astounds me,” she says in a soft, reverent tone. “How you manage to not lose faith, I’ll never know.” She takes hold of Myka’s hand and places a light kiss on her palm.

“That’s easy. We have a plan,” Myka poses brightly.

“And when Myka Bering puts her mind to something, she’s certain it will work,” Helena says with a hint of cheek.

“It will,” Myka asserts, confidently.

“What if things don’t go to plan?”

“We’ll make a Plan B.” Myka laces her fingers through Helena’s and sets their intertwined hands on her thigh.

“I can be rather unpredictable,” Helena says more seriously. "Living up to the expectations of others has never been my strong suit.”

Myka narrows her eyes. “But, Christina? And Claudia?”

“Their expectations are rather different from yours, love,” Helena explains with affection. She turns to face Myka and pulls her hand close.

Myka takes a moment to consider Helena’s comment, realizing she hasn’t thought much about expectations beyond finding a way to keep Helena present. “Does that kind of commitment scare you?“

“Terrify, actually.”

Myka tenses at Helena’s candid answer.

“Rest assured; I’ll work tirelessly to rise to the occasion,” Helena professes. Her lips rise on the ends, forming a slight, humble smile.

Helena releases Myka's hand and threads her arm through Myka’s. She pulls her close, then rests her head on Myka’s shoulder. Myka shifts to make Helena more comfortable and tilts her head to rest on top of Helena’s. The pair sits in contemplative silence for several heartfelt minutes, before Helena breaks their trance.

“Did you always know you’d find someone worthy of your affections?

Helena’s question catches Myka off guard. “N-not so much know, as hoped.“

“I could never picture it, myself. After Christina was born, I thought little on the matter.” Helena curls closer to Myka.

“But Giselle?”

“Giselle,” Helena mumbles gloomily. “Giselle and I found each other amidst a crossroads of sorts. Truth be told, I doubt we’d have remained together long.“

“But you were going to move in with her.”

“True. At the time, I thought Giselle’s stability and supportive family were best for Christina’s future. And I’d convinced myself her generous, passionate nature was enough for me as well.“

Myka feels Helena’s body slacken and gives her arm a reassuring squeeze.

“By the time you came along, any notion of romance had escaped me entirely. But your somber eyes called to me from across the bar that day, and before we’d ever spoken, I felt drawn to you, unlike anyone I’d ever seen before.”

Helena lifts her head and meets Myka’s gaze. “I dare say I fell in love with you that very instant,” she professes. She stretches up and presses her lips to Myka’s.

Myka doesn’t return the gesture right away, too stunned by Helena’s words to react, but soon reciprocates by sliding a hand across Helena’s jaw and pulling her close.

Children noisily rush past but neither woman hears a sound.

Claudia steps through the door.

“Seriously, is that all you two ever do?” she mumbles as she walks briskly to the edge of the deck.

Myka breaks the kiss and suddenly notices the girls running around in the yard.

“Don’t go in the tall grass!” Claudia shouts.

“But Aunt Claudia, lightning bugs!” Christina exclaims.

“I know. Super cool. But stay on the cut grass.” She turns toward Helena. “So are we torching those bananas tonight or what?“

“We’re burning bananas?” Myka asks.

“A special treat for the occasion. Bananas Foster,” Helena relates.

“Oh, I remember.” Myka’s eyes widen. She nods.

“We should make an attempt tonight, in case it rains tomorrow as predicted,” Helena says to Claudia. "I’ll get the gear; you get the girls.”

“Deal.” Claudia hops off the deck and into the yard.

Helena begins to rise, but Myka tightens her hold and pulls her back, initiating a kiss meant to finish what they started earlier.

“You’re the best mom, you know,” Myka enthuses.

“I am aiming for a gold star in pyrotechnics.”

“I can think of other things you’re good at igniting, too,” Myka purrs. She kisses Helena steamily one last time. “But for now, let’s torch those bananas.“

——————————–

Sunday proves gray overall, but the rain never comes. The beach is visited one last time and another grilled meal cooked, but the mood is less festive; all parties present are resigned to the fact their blissful vacation is coming to an end.

Nevertheless, their journey back to the city on Monday is a cheerful affair, with everyone lauding the weekend as an undeniable success.

Myka is dropped off at her apartment, but makes a quick turn around and joins Helena at Claudia’s later that evening. She worked hard all weekend to put Helena’s imminent departure on the back burner, but upon hitting the city, the thought has pushed too far forward to ignore. She brings enough clothes for days, hoping to spend every minute she can with Helena, fully aware Helena will want to spend every minute with Christina.

As the week begins, everyone meets the realities of the future head on.

Helena commits to a one-way ticket to the UK. Her flight leaves next Wednesday.

Helena, Claudia, and Myka hash out tentative plans for Christina’s care, agreeing Myka will stay at Claudia’s several days a week, and a real bed will be purchased to replace the air bed for her comfort.

Helena explains one-on-one to Christina what’s happening, then brings her out to talk with Claudia and Myka. Everyone tries to keep the mood upbeat, but it’s clear Christina doesn’t completely comprehend what’s going to happen. The conversation leaves Helena monosyllabic for the rest of the day, feeling devastated to have to disappoint Christina in any way. Myka tries her best to console Helena, but no one but Christina can raise her from her funk.

As the weekend approaches, Helena decides to sort through some of the belongings she’s been storing at Claudia’s. She digs through Claudia’s vast closet and passes Myka and Christina several boxes to be inspected. Half way through the chore, her phone rings. She decides to take the call, but instructs Myka to continue, pointing to the last remaining boxes to be pulled out from the pile.

Myka swiftly completes the task but spies a box in the corner that is of the same color and make as the others. Deciding Helena must have overlooked it, she drags it towards her and opens the lid. Sifting through, she’s delighted to find it brimming with photos and other ephemera, seemingly from Helena’s days in California. At the very bottom, she finds another box, and thinking it too must be full of photos, lifts the lid and peeks inside. Her eyes go wide as thumbs through the contents, feeling unsure how to react.

Thinking it best not to disturb anything further before speaking to Helena, she closes the lid and steps out of the closet. She finds Christina sitting on the floor, unpacking items. Helena reappears shortly from her phone call.

“University,” Helena explains cheerfully, waving her phone. “I’ve secured housing the graduate halls.”

“Great,” Myka mutters, sounding less that thrilled by the news. She points with her eyes to the box in her hands then narrows them at Helena.

Confused my Myka’s tone, Helena stares quizzically at the box. The moment she registers what’s in it, her cheerful expression flattens.

“Christina, go play in your room for minute,” Myka requests. “I need to talk to your mom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Can you believe its been a year since Myka's apartment blew up? Here's an [article](http://evgrieve.com/2016/03/march-26-2015-march-26-2016.html). I can’t believe I’ve been writing this story for nearly a year! Thanks to all of you who've stuck with me reading all this time, you are all awesome!
> 
> **Next up: What's in the box? And Helena's last week in New York.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been so long since I’ve managed an update for this, I forget when I last posted. As a friendly reminder, Chapter 21 ended with Myka finding something questionable in a box that Helena hid in Claudia’s closet and Myka asked Christina to leave the room for a minute so she could talk to Helena. I’ll admit I’m dragging my heels in terms of sending Helena away…I thought it’d happen this chapter but it wasn’t meant to be. I wanted to give them time some quality together beforehand, which is what chapter 22 has turned out to be. More calm before the storm, perhaps? Also, the triumphant return of Dewy.

——————————

> _New York blazes like a magnificent jewel in its fit setting of sea, and earth, and stars._ \- Thomas Wolfe 

\------------------

Christina looks anxiously between Myka and Helena.

“Do as Myka says,” Helena gently urges.

Christina stares at Helena, then blinks, hovering on the edge of asking why, but uncharacteristically holding back. She trudges out of the room, exaggerating her steps, clearly demonstrating her unwillingness to leave.

Once Christina is a safe distance away, Myka sets the box on the bed and removes the lid.

Helena peers inside apprehensively and shuffles through a few photos. She picks one up and studies it for a moment, then places it back.

“This is all for Christina when she’s older," she explains.

“ _All_ of it?” Myka presses.

“Yes.”

“Even the box in the bottom?"

“Of course,” Helena insists.

“But the whole time I’ve known you, you've acted like you’ve been struggling."

"It was never meant to be spent on trivialities. I'd saved it for Christina's education,” Helena clarifies. “I couldn’t very well throw it about during the trial. I had to keep appearances."

“You certainly took that to heart," Myka grumbles. Her gaze hardens. "It's all from working for MacPherson, isn't it?”

“I did say the job was rather lucrative.”

“So you hid it from the police?"

“More like, failed to mention,” Helena gingerly explains. "In my mind it was forfeit."

Myka glowers. “How much is in there?"

“Fifty,” Helena reveals casually and averts her eyes.

“ _Thousand?_ ” Myka blurts a little too loudly. Her hand flies over her mouth as if to push the word back in.

“Approximately."

“Does Claudia know?” Myka barks. "No, wait, of course, she doesn’t.”

She rubs a hand over her face while mentally aligning the facts.

“Ok, look. I get it. I do, but…you can’t keep fifty thousand dollars in a shoebox in a closet."

“I’d argue I already have,” Helena quips.

Myka shakes her head. “You can’t hand a shoebox filled with cash over to a college."

“Why not? Exorbitant amounts of cash are exchanged for goods every day if the press is to be believed. How could this be any different?” Helena genuinely questions.

“I think there’d be complications, because of your past.” Myka answers truthfully. "You don't have a million lawyers to back you up."

Her glare softens. “Besides, right now, I think you need it more than Christina, for your own future.” She steps closer to Helena and skims a hand up and down her arm in consolation.

Helena's shoulders slump and she sighs dejectedly.

Myka's attention swings towards the door as a slight movement catches her eye.

“What’s up, honey,” she says to Christina, who she sees timidly peeking in from a distance.

“You said I could come back in a minute,” Christina answers with a sad waver in her tone.

“What’s wrong?” Myka asks with concern. Noting a slight quiver in Christina's bottom lip, she crouches down and opens her arms wide. "Come here."

Christina instantly runs toward Myka and Myka envelops her in a hug.

“You were fighting, like Mom and Aunt Claudia," Christina cries. "I don’t want you to fight.” She twists in Myka’s arms and glances at Helena through watery eyes.

“We weren’t fighting, love. Just discussing a sensitive issue."

“But you said it was about me,” Christina accuses. She burrows her face into Myka’s curls and hugs her tightly.

Myka looks at Helena worriedly and rubs her hand in calming circles on her back. She wonders how much of the conversation Christina heard, and what kind of discussion they'll have to have later for damage control purposes.

“No, love, this is your mother's fault, as usual,” Helena replies dolefully.

“And it’s not a bad thing, really,” Myka relates, suddenly realizing that's true. She smooths down Christina’s curls and kisses the top of her head then angles her eyes up, urging Helena to fix the situation.

Helena nods solemnly and fingers the edge of the box on the bed. “Let's peruse pleasant memories, shall we?” she suggests, gently shifting topics for Christina's benefit.

She lifts a photo from the top of the pile and grins. “Christina, do you remember this?"

Helena flips the picture around so Christina can see and Christina peeks over her shoulder. As curiosity takes over, she releases Myka and steps toward Helena.

“I’m just a baby!” she exclaims as she plucks the photo from Helena’s hand.

Helena smiles warmly.

“Even as an infant, the back yard was your favorite part of the house. You adored the fruit trees and flowers.”

Myka shuffles next to Christina to view the photo, then glances quizzically at Helena.

“Before our move to New York, we lived in a house. A real 'fixer-upper,' so to speak, but with a lovely yard.”

Christina hands the photo to Myka while Helena pulls another out of the box.

“Ahh, this one’s special. It’s from your Aunt Claudia's twenty-first birthday. I believe you were four,” Helena says to Christina with a sly smirk.

“Lemme see!” Christina bellows while jumping toward the photo.

Helena yanks it just out of range. “I don’t know if you’re old enough."

Myka swipes the image out of Helena’s hand, at first eying it with interest, then scrunching up her nose at the contents. “It’s a cake that looks like a…is that one of those star trooper things from Star Wars?”

“A Cylon, actually. From the _original_ Battlestar Galactica," Helena clarifies.

Myka looks at her blankly. She doesn’t know what that is or why it would be special.

“Inside joke, I suppose. Between us girls." She winks at Christina. Christina giggles.

“You’re such a nerd,” Myka groans playfully. She hands the photo to Christina.

Dewy arrives unannounced and promptly jumps on the bed, into the box of photos. Helena grabs him before he has a chance to settle and drops him unceremoniously onto the floor. He stands his ground, sitting on his haunches, wrapping his tail around his feet, looking up at Helena with expectant eyes.

“We’ll give you a box in a minute. This one’s occupied,” Helena warns.

He kneads his paws then stands and rubs his whole body across her leg, purring loudly. Helena sighs in defeat.

“Alright, here,” she huffs. Grabbing the closest box on the floor, she empties it onto the bed then sets it in front of Dewy. Dewy immediately jumps in, turns in circles several times, and curls into a ball.

“What’s all this?” Myka says, eyeing the newly exposed contents from the box.

“Old journals,” Helena explains. She lifts a volume and flips through its pages. “I can’t say recall much of this,” she says while scanning an entry. Her eyes flick to the top. “March thirtieth, two thousand and three, during my first go-round in London, sorting myself out."

“Oh, they're private," Myka nervously mumbles and sets the journal she’d picked up down. "I-I wouldn’t want to pry."

“You wouldn’t be, love. I doubt there’s anything exceptionally scandalous, perhaps an errant dalliance or two. They’re yours to peruse if you wish. I’d imagine the majority are filled with grandiose ideas from my youth. You might gain a bit of insight into a young Helena Wells—"

“Mom, what’s this?” Christina interrupts, already avidly thumbing through pages.

Helena steps next to Christina, brow wrinkling as she views the page. “Something your Aunt Claudia and I dreamed up."

"It looks like a rocket."

“It was.”

Helena winks at Myka.

“Really?” Christina questions.

“I think it’s best to query your Aunt. She was the lead—"

“Oh, no I wasn’t,” Claudia grumbles from the doorway. “That thing was _all_ your Mom’s idea.” She steps into the room and stands over Christina, eyeing the page with interest.

“Is it really a rocket?” Christina asks.

“Of a sort,” Helena replies. “We designed the interface that lived inside the structure. It processed samples gathered from remote locations on the spot."

“Cooool,” Christina utters reverently.

Claudia places her hands on her hips and takes in the state of her room. “This is _all_ your crap, H.G.?"

“I believe so."

“It’s not much."

“I’ve certainly downsized over the years."

“Almost to nothing. But there’s some good stuff in here.”

Myka’s eyes widen as she watches Claudia sift through the photos in the box. She instinctively gravitates next to Christina. “I’m getting hungry. Let's make lunch,” she suggests.

“I can help,” Helena offers eagerly.

“ _You_ need to talk to Claudia,” Myka firmly instructs.

“How come?” Claudia asks.

“You’ll see,” Myka answers cryptically. She extends a hand to Christina. “Let's see what we can find in the kitchen.”

Christina looks up at Myka. “Rhubarb,” she blurts.

“Huh?"

“On TV, they made stuff with rhubarb."

“I don’t believe that’s standard fare in this dwelling,” Helena points out.

“The kid asked, so I bought some when I was out. It’s still in the bag,” Claudia remarks. “I don’t know what you do with it."

Everyone looks at Christina. “You make pie. And chutney. And jam. But I want pie."

Myka frowns. “We’ll need more than just rhubarb to make a pie. Probably strawberries, too, I think."

“You didn’t say strawberries. Or pie. You just said rhubarb, so that’s what I got,” Claudia says to Christina, sounding somewhat apologetic.

“Does that mean we can’t make pie?” Christina says dejectedly while looking at Helena with sad, round eyes.

Helena glances between Christina and Myka, twice. She side eyes Claudia then raises her brows at Myka, imploring her into action.

Myka takes the hint. “Let's get some. Strawberries. And pie. I mean, supplies for pie. Right now.” She looks nervously at Christina, then back at Helena. Helena nods.

Myka and Christina make a hasty exit, leaving Helena to talk with Claudia. Myka pauses in the lobby to gather her thoughts and decides they should frequent the fancier market a few blocks away, hoping they'll have strawberries this late in the season. They walk leisurely to the store and take their time locating supplies from a recipe Myka pulls up on her phone. The thought occurs to her while they’re here she should pick up a few items for dinner. As she doubles back to the produce section, she duly notes this is her future, premeditating dinner, breakfast, and lunch, not only for herself but for Christina and possibly Claudia, too.

They pay for their goods and take an alternate route back, discussing various local sites as they amble along. Myka slows as they approach Claudia’s building, hoping they’ve been away long enough for Helena and Claudia to work things out, thinking the last thing Christina needs today is to overhear another argument between adults.

When they enter the apartment, they find Claudia standing at the kitchen, aggressively making lunch while Helena sits on the sofa, arms and legs crossed, staring indignantly off into space.

Myka sets their shopping bags on the counter, and Claudia immediately begins to dig through.

“Why don’t you help your Aunt put these away,” Myka instructs Christina while glancing at Helena across the room. “I’ll be back in a minute."

Myka slips out of the kitchen and into the living room then plops down next to Helena on the couch.

“How’d it go?"

“As expected. She’s a tad cross.” Helena slides her arms apart and looks apologetically at Myka.

“She’ll get over it,” Myka assures. She runs a hand through Helena’s hair.

“I’m being punished,” Helena pouts.

“How?”

Myna’s fingers glide down the side of Helena’s arm and clasp her hand.

“I’m tasked with planning a dazzling excursion for the two of us; dinner and a night in a posh hotel."

“That’s your punishment?"

“I thought it best not to argue the point.”

“Don’t,” Myka advises. She absently twirls a curl between her fingers while keenly eyeing Helena up and down.

“You could wear that suit you were talking about last time."

“If you so desire."

“I do,” Myka assures. She leans close and presses her arm into Helena’s then nuzzles her nose behind Helena’s ear, placing a breathy, sensuous kiss there.

“Yo, lover girls, a little help here?” Claudia barks. "You promised the kid a pie, and I’m knee deep in sandwich territory,”

“Coming, dear,” Helena hums. She places a heartfelt kiss on Myka lips then moves to the kitchen.

As Myka’s eyes follow Helena crossing the room, she thinks she really should be angry at her for keeping secrets, but strangely, she’s not. And truthfully, they’ve weathered worse revelations. Plus now that all parties are on the same page, they can manage this windfall, together. She smiles to herself while watching Claudia, Helena and Christina work in the kitchen, feeling confident everything is going to be all right.

\----------------

The weekend proves to be a mish-mash of pleasantries and obligations. Helena prepares for her trip while fitting in as many out of the ordinary activities with Christina and Myka as possible. First on their agenda is a trip to the Skyscraper Museum in Battery Park, which is only a short subway ride away. As they snake through the exhibits, Christina is instantly mesmerized by an animated 1920’s film of planes and dirigibles flying through the city. She asks Myka and Helena a million questions and they each take turns answering.

Afterward, they ramble through the park and stumble upon the Irish Hunger Memorial. Christina and Helena immediately climb up the stone and earth structure while Myka enters the dark tunnel underneath. They then trade places and meet at the entrance before making their way south along the waterfront towards the harbor.

As they reach the tip of the park, they impulsively decide to ride the Staten Island Ferry. Herding into the boat with the crowd, Helena and Christina drag Myka across the deck, securing what they consider the optimal viewing area for the trip. Christina climbs the railing, eyes trained on the horizon as Ellis Island passes in the distance. Soon everyone on the boat looks towards the water as Lady Liberty floats into view.

“Myka’s not been on the ferry before, Christina. Tell her about the Statue of Liberty."

“France gave her to us as a present a reeeally long time ago. She’s made out metal parts that fit together like a puzzle, and she's taller than the building we used to live in. One time we went up in her crown! It was cool, but there sooo many stairs.” Christina wilts on the railing, acting out exhaustion. "I think she’s really pretty."

“She is,” Myka agrees and glances at Helena for confirmation.

"As are you,” Helena declares to Myka. She leans forward, placing a soft yet insistent kiss on Myka’s lips.

“Are you trying to be romantic or something?” Myka asks boldly as Helena withdraws.

Helena raises a brow. “That was my intension. Did I not succeed?”

“You did,” Myka assures. She flutters her lashes and smiles crookedly, then kisses Helena again.

As the statue fades out of view, Christina hops off of the railing. “When we get there, can we go to that old house by the water? It was fun."

“What old house by the water?” Helena questions, her brow wrinkling as she looks down at Christina.

“The one with all the old stuff and pictures inside. It had a big yard with lots of flowers. We had picnic with Aunt Claudia, remember?"

Helena scrunches up her nose, clearly confused, but her eyes soon light up. “They were tulips, were they not?"

“Yeah, tulips."

“What are you two talking about?” Myka asks. She threads her arm though Helena’s and rests her head on Helena’s shoulder.

“Clear Comfort," Helena says factually.

Myka eyes Helena quizzically.

“An authentic picturesque Victorian cottage and home of one, Alice Austen. She was a photographer from the late nineteenth century, hence the pictures lining the walls. Have you not heard of her?"

“I haven't."

“Shame really. Her more candid images were quite scandalous in their day, showing girls exposing their ankles and smoking cigarettes. We had quite a laugh about that didn’t we, Christina?”

“I liked the bicycle ones. They were funny." Christina chuckles.

“Alice grew up at Clear Comfort and continued living there with her partner, Gertrude, until financial troubles forced them out in the forties. Alice, unfortunately, ended up in the poorhouse."

“That's so sad."

“Heartbreaking, really. Luckily the community banded together and saved the house from demolition. It’s now a landmark.”

“Can we have a picnic again?" Christina interjects.

“It is a lovely day. Shall we go?” Helena asks Myka.

“Sure. Why not? It’s not like we have plans or anything."

Helena and Christina flash identical grins of approval.

“Would you mind looking up directions? I’m afraid my phone is of little use at sea."

“Sure.”

Myka pulls out her phone and side eyes Helena, thinking “sea” is perhaps a generous description of New York harbor. Helena's phone must be cheaper than she thought if it won't work this close to land. She knows when Helena gets to London she’ll buy a real phone, which pleases her, but the combination of “London" and “sea” registers as “separation," and the thought sours. To shake off the feeling, she turns her attentions back to her phone and researches their destination.

"Looks like we can take a bus but should get food somewhere near the terminal."

“Excellent," Helena quips. She raises a brow at Christina and Christina flashes a toothy grin.

With a lurch of finality, the ferry pulls into the dock and passengers funnel out through the gate. Christina's left hand instinctively finds Helena’s, already extended and waiting, while her right reaches purposefully for Myka’s. Myka feels small fingers wrapping around her own and looks down, finding Christina looking up, eager to receive her approval. Myka smiles warmly and grips Christina’s hand, then glances at Helena, who is grinning ear to ear while watching the exchange. Myka’s heart swells as she holds Helena’s gaze, thinking this is what it's all about, these joyful moments of connectedness, however fleeting. And she’s happy to note, from the look on Helena’s face, Helena understands the sentiment as well.

–----------

Monday night is date night, and it's agreed Myka and Helena will dress separately then meet in the lobby of the hotel Helena booked for the night. Helena was adamant they should part, if ever so briefly, to intensify the romantic qualities of the evening. Myka agreed, though somewhat reluctantly, as she’s the one tasked with slogging back to Brooklyn to prepare. Knowing Helena wants to make up for their last attempt at a similar scheme, she holds her tongue and plays along.

It’s a sweltering August evening, which Myka uses as an excuse to wear the lightest dress possible, both in color and density. She arranges her hair up and off her neck in a loose, elegant bun, allowing a few curls to tumble free near her ears. To set off the outfit, she digs out matching set of earrings and necklace she hasn’t worn in awhile, both Amanda’s creations, and locates a pair of heels that compliment her dress but won’t leave her towering over Helena. She applies a thin layer of makeup just to look fresh and chooses a bright red shade of lipstick, thinking lips are the place to make a statement for the evening.

She checks her back in the mirror and smiles, thinking it's been ages since she's made this much of an effort, and even longer since she's dressed exclusively for Helena’s viewing. Her heart beats a little faster in anticipation, as if she hadn’t just seen Helena hours before, albeit in a far looser ensemble of a strappy tank top and cut off shorts. She packs a light overnight bag then calls a car and is soon on her way back to Manhattan in relative air conditioned luxury.

The hotel itself is a stones throw from where Helena used to work, but the vibe is vintage high brow as opposed to modern polished. It suits Helena better, she thinks. The lobby is fairly small and sedate, filled with stuffed leather furniture and dark wooden tables. She asks at the desk for her bag to be to dropped off in Helena's suite then scans the room for signs of her suitor. At the very back, she spies someone fitting Helena’s description, reading the newspaper, legs crossed, wearing a pair of sharp dress pants, lounging in the corner. Feeling slightly giddy, she zig-zags through the furniture and stops a pace away from the figure seated on the couch.

“Is this seat taken?” Myka queries.

Helena closes her paper and moves it the side. Her eyes rake down and then up the length of Myka's form, and she smirks suggestively as their eyes meet. Folding the paper in half again, she lays it absently on the table and rises.

"We wouldn’t want you to muss your delightful attire,” she scolds. Placing a hand on Myka's upper arm for balance, she cranes up and kisses her on the cheek. "Nor those delectable lips."

Myka slides her fingers under the lapels of Helena’s jacket and tugs her lightly forward. “I can always reapply,” she mentions, then leans in, pressing her lips squarely to Helena’s.

As Myka pulls back, she takes in the entirely of Helena’s state of dress, thoroughly enjoying the tailored smartness of her suit and the generous number of buttons left open on her blouse. She feels a fleeting pang of guilt over asking Helena to wear the suit at all, thinking tweed must feel oppressive in this heat, but decides Helena's so handsome in it, it was definitely worth the trouble.

“This was Claudia’s?” Myka asks while sliding her hands down from the lapels to circle Helena’s waist.

“I’ll admit, it’s been altered to fit my personage."

“Well, I like it. I like it a lot,” Myka gushes. She kisses Helena again, this time more insistently, pressing her body forward to achieve full contact.

Helena’s hands skim up the sides of Myka’s arms and slide around her upper back, encouraging the kiss to linger as long as it can.

“You are simply divine,” Helena enthuses as both parties break for air.

Myka grins bashfully and averts her eyes.

“Shall we?” Helena juts out an elbow, inviting Myka to thread her arm through. Myka complies, and the pair amble slowly toward the exit.

“Do you mind walking? I called in a few favors and managed a reservation nearby."

“That sounds nice. Plus the light’s beautiful outside right now."

They saunter leisurely a few blocks south while jovially discussing the weather, then turn onto a quiet side street. Helena slows in the middle and stops in front of a tiny eatery boasting white washed wood with weathered mirrors lining the walls. Its windows and doors are all opened to the street.

“Have you been here before?” Helena asks eagerly.

“I have,” Myka answers proudly.

Helena’s enthusiastic expression dims.

“For brunch, not dinner. Dinner’s different,” Myka discloses apologetically.

“This was rather last minute,” Helena clarifies with a slight bluster, brushing off her disappointment. She places a hand lightly between Myka's shoulders and waves the other towards to door. “Ladies first."

Myka smirks at Helena and then enters. She's immediately greeted by the hostess, who becomes more animated as she notices Helena following behind. The two apparently know each other but haven’t spoken in awhile, which Myka is now seeing as a trend in Helena’s life.

The pair are seated at an intimate booth for two, the only one in the restaurant, in fact. A bottle of wine is selected, and meals are ordered in short order. Light conversation is had until the wine is poured and Helena relaxes back in her seat. She takes a sip from her glass then twirls the stem back and forth, her gaze focused on the liquid swirling to and fro, her mind obviously lost in thought. She takes another sip then sets the glass on the table.

“I’d have wined and dined you like this every night, Myka, had we met earlier, before Christina,” she says earnestly, her tone filled with a hint or remorse.

“But then dinner out wouldn't feel special, like tonight,” Myka counters. “I like the way things are now, _with_ Christina.” She hooks the front of her foot around the back of Helena’s calf and slides it slowly up and down.

Helena raises a brow and smiles approvingly.

“Besides, how would we have met?"

“I imagine I’d have noticed your lovely paintings and been dying to meet their maker."

“I don’t picture you as the art lover, back in the day,” Myka says with a hint of snark.

“Perhaps not, but anything’s possible."

“I was different back then, too,” Myka admits dryly. “I had this rigid idea of how my life should be. If I’d met you back then, I’m not sure what I’d have thought. Then again I doubt you’d have noticed me anyway."

“I’m certain I'd notice you in any world,” Helena declares. She reaches across the table and takes hold of Myka’s hands.

Myka grins warmly, her eyes beaming with affection.

The appetizers arrive shortly and conversation veers toward lighter topics. More wine is consumed, and Myka’s foot wanders several times more to caress Helena’s leg. After dinner, as they wait for desert and coffee to be served, Helena slips something out of her jacket pocket and places it in Myka’s hand. She closes Myka's fingers before she can see what it is, then wraps both of her hands around Myka’s.

“I’d understand if you have no use for this as an accouterment, but it belonged to my mother’s mother, and it means quite a lot to me."

Helena releases Myka’s hand and watches avidly as her fingers open. Myka plucks a thin, gold necklace from her palm and lifts it up for closer inspection, noting a single pearl mounted in gold hanging from its form.

“It’s beautiful,” Myka raves.

"I’d like for you to have it,” Helena instructs, her voice filled with anticipation.

“Helena, I couldn’t."

“I know it’s rather ordinary.”

“No, it’s not. Look at the detail of the gold mount the pearl's set in. And I think the pearl’s real.” Myka holds the necklace up for Helena to see. "It’s lovely, really. Probably Art Deco.”

Helena threads a finger under the necklace and studies it closely.

“You have so few things left from your family; I’d hate to take what little you have."

"But I want to give you something to remember me by. Something tangible."

“I’ll have Christina."

“I’d consider her more a burden than a gift."

“But there’s so much of you in her. When I look at her, I can’t help seeing you. Probably even more so when you’re gone.”

Helena casts her eyes down and slumps back in her seat.

“No, I mean…” Myka looks away in frustration and rubs the back of her neck. "I’m saying this all wrong. The necklace is beautiful, and I’m honored you’d consider giving it to me, but entrusting me with Christina is also a gift."

“You may no longer feel that way once I’m gone,” Helena mumbles.

“I’m sure there’ll be days that test my theory, but they’ll pass."

Helena looks up, meeting Myka’s earnest gaze. “So, the necklace?"

“I‘m keeping it,” Myka declares. "You don’t have anything to wear it with anyway."

“You’ll wear it? Really?” Helena’s face lights up like Christina’s when she’s gotten her way.

“I will. And not only to remember you by. I have a few outfits in mind."

Helena pats down her pockets and pulls out worn cardboard cube then slides it across the table. “Then you’ll need this,” she relays.

Myka accepts the box and gingerly places the necklace inside. She tucks it away in her purse just as the coffee and dessert arrive.

Myka daintily nibbles a piece of fruit and takes a sip of her expresso while eyeing Helena amorously over the rim.

“Let's get the check,” she instructs, then slides the side of her foot slowly and suggestively up the length of Helena's calf.

Helena immediately signals for the waitress and settles the bill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alice Austen links: [story](https://keithyorkcity.wordpress.com/2012/09/27/photographer-alice-austen-from-riches-to-rags/), [photos](http://aliceausten.org/collection?body_value=&field_collection_activity_tid=All&field_collection_subjects_tid=All&field_collection_date_value%5Bmin%5D=1880&field_collection_date_value%5Bmax%5D=1930&page=4)
> 
> Also, I just wanted to say I'm in awe that this odd story has hit the 100 kudos mark! Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with me this long or even just felt the need to give a boost with a kudo somewhere along the way. It's hard to believe there was a time I thought I could wrap this up in 8 chapters (both g/s and w/w). I've worked hard to flesh out this narrative and have learned so much from the process...I do really appreciate the support. And, thank you kindly for the comments left along the way!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little longer than usual and I’ll admit upfront the inevitable is finally happening. Emotions are high and kind of roll around and my hope is everything comes off balanced instead of overly dramatic. And, I decided, after the fact, this chapter is the end of part 2....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to apparitionism for the quote!

\-------------------

> _The Empire State Building loses its glamour amid the noise and dust of a midsummer traffic jam. Even the grand old Dakota, former home of John Lennon, becomes just another apartment building when you jog past it every day. Life happens, and, gradually, the grid of historic sites gives way to your own potent landmarks: the office building where you landed your first job, the restaurant where your lover proposed, the park where you were mugged._  
>  \- Sherill Tippins, _Inside the Dream Palace: The Life and Times of New York's Legendary Chelsea Hotel_

\-------------------

Helena and Myka stroll hand in hand the short distance back to their hotel. They exchange heated glances while waiting for the elevator then funnel inside with a few other passengers. When the car empties on floor five, Helena tugs Myka toward her and initiates a long, lingering kiss that lasts until the doors again part. She pulls Myka down the hall to the very end, then slides a keycard out of her pocket and opens the door. She sweeps her hand forward, inviting Myka to enter and Myka eagerly complies.

“Wow,” Myka says, as she takes in the enormity of the suite.

Noticing the breathtaking westwardly view, Myka throws her bag to the side and moves towards the windows. Helena steps behind her and slips her hands around Myka's waist. She places her chin on top Myka’s shoulder and pulls her close.

“A vertical city of unimaginable diamonds,” Helena murmurs wistfully into Myka’s ear. Myka’s lips curl up warmly at the ends and she leans into Helena’s embrace.

They gaze silently at the vista, content to be together and alone until Helena’s lips connect with the nape of Myka's neck. Myka emits a low moan as a a jolt of anticipation rushes down her spine and tilts her head to allow Helena more access. Helena’s mouth slowly maps the slope of Myka shoulders as her hands skim up the sides of Myka's arms and nimbly slip under the straps of her dress. She methodically peels the dress down then off, her lips giving every inch of newly exposed skin the utmost care and attention, then steps back, allowing Myka to remove her arms entirely from the straps. As the dress falls in a pool on the floor, Helena’s hands slide smoothly around Myka's bare midriff and her forehead presses insistently into the space between Myka’s shoulders.

When Helena remains fixed in that position for a beat too long, Myka begins to worry.

“Let’s run away,” Helena mumbles into Myka’s back and nuzzles her cheek into her shoulder blade.

“Where?” Myka huffs out in frustration, thinking just like that, the mood is killed. She turns in Helena’s arms and cups her jaw, lifting it up so their eyes meet.

“The mountains," Helena proposes. "We could live 'off the grid.'”

“Which ones?” Myka asks, feigning little interest. She pushes Helena's hair out of her face and slides her hands down to rest on Helena's shoulders.

“Any of them,” Helena says with a youthful excitement.

Myka lowers her chin and smiles to herself, thinking this is Helena’s anxiety showing through.

“Christina would never live without Claudia, you know,” she suggests. She glides her hands down and tucks her fingers under Helena's lapels, pushing the jacket back and off of her shoulders.

“We’d take her, too,” Helena adds. She moves her arms back so Myka can off the sleeves.

“Really?” Myka fills the word with a sarcastic disbelief. She drops the jacket to the floor and begins to unbutton Helena’s shirt.

Helena glances down at Myka’s swiftly working fingers. “I suppose she’d be miserable in the wild."

Myka reaches the last button and yanks the shirt out of Helena's pants then removes the shirt entirely. “I think we’d all be miserable in the wild.”

Helena’s gaze flicks up to meet Myka's. “What do you mean?"

"I’ve thought about this already,” Myka says with certainty. She fastidiously unbuckles Helena’s belt then unbuttons the waistband and pulls down the zipper. "It’d be fun for like a month, but we’re not those people.”

“Explain,” Helena questions as she slips off her shoes.

“You said you like to travel,” Myka points out. "And I think you were pretty social before you locked yourself away during the trial.” She hooks her fingers through Helena’s belt loops and pushes the pants down until they drop to the floor.

Helena steps out of the pants.

“And I like cities. I think you do too,” Myka adds. She reaches around her own back to unhook her bra. “And you wouldn’t want Christina to grow up alone like that.”

Helena’s eyes widen as Myka sheds her bra and tosses it to the side.

Myka grabs Helena's shoulders and twirls her around, thinking she's keeping this conversation up as a smokescreen, to hold Helena’s anxiety at bay.

“She grew up in a vibrant, multicultural, urban environment. It’d be jarring to be suddenly isolated in the woods." She unhooks Helena’s bra and removes it entirely.

"Plus it's really hard, tedious work, the kind of thing you have to be mentally prepared for." She curls her fingers under the waistband of Helena’s underwear and slides it down, removing Helena’s socks along the way, one at a time. She stands and twirls Helena back around to face her.

"Besides," she says while shimmying out of her own undies. “You're not running anymore."

Helena stares, mouth slightly parted, dumbfounded by Myka’s words.

Myka stares back, thinking she sees a counter debate forming behind Helena's eyes.

Helena wets her lips. “But what if someone new catches your eye and steals your heart while I'm away?”

Myka huffs out a short breath and squeezes her eyes shut, thinking she needs to shut this nonsense down right away.

"Do you _not_ want to have sex tonight? Because now you’re just stalling," she grumbles and glares at Helena firmly.

"I-I never said that,” Helena quickly counters.

"Do you love me?” Myka questions, her tone insistent but not harsh.

“Yes."

“Then don’t worry."

“But you’re such an attractive woma—"

Myka thrusts a finger over Helena’s lips then slides it down, following the intimate contours of her body until she reaches her belly button.

"Say it again. Say you love me,” she taunts and pokes Helena in the stomach.

"I love you,” Helena spurts, and lunges forward, kissing Myka with all her might.

“Again,” Myka urges as they break for air.

Helena repeats the words, this time softly, between passionate kisses and insistent caresses. She walks Myka back toward the bed then pushes her down. Myka falls then hikes herself onto the surface while Helena quickly climbs on top, straddling Myka's legs. She dips down, pressing her body into Myka's then stretches up, connecting their mouths in a display of feverish action. Myka arches up, and soon Helena's repeated words turn into heated touches lasting well into the night.

\---------------------------------------

When Myka wakes, she finds Helena propped up on an elbow, gazing at her with bright and shining eyes, wearing a satisfied grin.

As her eyes fully focus, she feels utterly content to be staring back at the beautiful woman lying next to her.

“What are you thinking?" she asks.

“How delightfully insatiable you are," Helena purrs. Her grin widens, becoming even more devilish.

“You’re one to talk," Myka accuses, her lips rising smugly at the ends while her mind mulls over last night's events. Once they hit the bed, Helena was so dead set on pleasuring her that she literally had to wrestle her off to reciprocate. She’s not complaining; it was fun and heightened the mood, but she wishes their actions were borne out of playfulness more than anxiety.

“I won’t see you again for over a month. I had to fit as much in as I could," Myka clarifies, her voice tinted with a hint of sarcasm.

“Did you achieve your goal?” Helena inquires.

“Uh-uh,” Myka replies cheekily. She moves her head back and forth in tiny strokes.

Helena arches a brow. “Would you like a top up?"

Myka sucks on her bottom lip then releases it with a pop. “Mmm, yes."

Helena slinks forward and presses their lips together, starting things off once again.

\---------------

After a leisurely breakfast in bed, the women shower and dress then make their way to the check out desk. They exit the hotel and lackadaisically walk south, letting the ebb and flow of the walk/don’t walk signs guide their route back to Claudia’s apartment. When they hit a major east-west street, Myka suddenly has a thought.

“Let’s go this way,” she says abruptly and drags Helena by the hand across the intersection.

Helena complies with little resistance.

They continue trekking south then turn east, crossing the street into a small park. Myka heads directly toward a vacant bench and sits. Helena follows. Myka takes hold of Helena’s hand and threads their fingers together.

Helena looks around. “This location is certainly familiar,” she quips.

“That’s why we’re here,” Myka replies. She shifts to face Helena directly.

“I realized this is the last time, for a _really_ long time, we’d be walking this path, and, well, I’m going to walk through here every day to get to work, and I’d like…” She pauses to breath in a deep breath, tempering her rising anxiety. “I’d like to have one last, non-drama filled memory here. Something nice to override the others."

Helena looks down at the ground nervously, while Myka’s stares off into the distance, eyes glazing over as her mind scrolls through their previous altercations in the park. Finding the memories of Helena’s evasiveness unsettling, she questions whether this was such a good idea after all.

Helena scoots closer and grips Myka's hand tightly.

“I can’t promise things between us will be easier from here on out, but I do promise to fight for a brighter future. No more running.” She tips Myka's chin towards her, so their eyes meet. "I do love you, more than words can express—"

“I love you, too,” Myka blurts, overjoyed by Helena's clear proclamations. She throws her arms around Helena’s neck and initiates a kiss brimming with every ounce of her affection.

\-------------------

Plans for the evening include a cheerful goodbye dinner at their favorite local restaurant, with Steve, Liam, Erica and Claudia joining in. The mood is festive, and the waitstaff dotes on them since Helena, Christina, and Claudia are regulars. Christina is allowed to order anything she wants, which amounts to her own stack of banana pancakes and chocolate banana pie all round for dessert.

Lingering goodbyes are exchanged just outside before the parties reluctantly part ways. The remaining group take a detour on the short walk home, deciding that although it’s almost Christina’s bedtime, a walk through the riverside park is in order, in hopes of burning off her sugar high.

As they reach the waterfront, everyone crowds by the railing and takes in the sparkling lights of the massive bridge reaching across the water to Brooklyn. Claudia and Christina soon meander south towards the bridge’s underbelly, leaving Myka and Helena alone.

Helena stares fixedly at the sight of Christina receding into the distance, her face neutral and unmoving. Her hair blows gently in the breeze, obscuring her view. Myka brushes a hand through then rests her hand on Helena's shoulder.

“You ok?” she asks with concern.

Helena looks down, then out across the water. She blinks a little too rapidly and grips the railing tighter than need be.

Myka thinks she sees a tear. “You know it’s ok to cry."

“No, it’s not,” Helena says into the air. "If I start, I won’t stop.” She breathes in a deep cleansing breath and lets it out slowly.

Myka lays a hand on top of Helena’s on the railing and slides the other down from Helena’s shoulder to her waist.

“Come here,” she says softly, then envelops Helena in a warm hug.

Helena wraps her arms around Myka tightly, her breath heaving in waves.

“It’s all going to work out. Just keep your eye on the prize."

Helena looks up and narrows her eyes. “What prize?"

“Us,” Myka says confidently. "All of us. Together. Soon.” Her lips rise high on one side, forming a lopsided grin, beaming with positivity. She thinks to herself this is her strong suit, setting goals and planning the steps to get there.

“You trust me, right?"

“I do."

“Then we'll be fine."

\-----------------

As Christina’s energy runs thin the group head back to Claudia’s apartment and promptly settle in for the evening. Christina’s eyes light up when Helena announces tonight will be slumber party night, fulfilling her promise from weeks ago. Christina gets ready for bed with little fuss, then pads into the living room carrying her blanket and pillow. Dewy dutifully trails behind.

Helena glances at Christina then eyes the massive couch. She looks toward Myka briefly, then turns her gaze back to Christina. “Let’s sleep in our bed, like old times,” she says and smiles gently at Christina.

“Yay!” Christina yelps. She runs across the apartment, into Myka and Helena’s makeshift room and jumps on the bed. Dewy rushes to follow.

Helena looks at Myka, her eyes asking for approval after the fact.

“Its fine,” Myka assures. "I’m going to clean up, but I’ll join you both in a minute.”

“Thank you,” Helena says reverently then lifts up on her toes and places a brief kiss on Myka’s lips.

There’s a slight desperation in Helena's voice that Myka finds troubling, but she decides not to address it right now, knowing tomorrow is going to be difficult enough for everyone no matter what is said tonight.

Helena moves to the bedroom while Myka heads to the bathroom. She quickly washes up, then makes her way back toward the bedroom. As she crosses the living room, she hears Helena telling Christina a bedtime story and decides not to enter until the tale winds down.

Drifting towards the couch, she plops down then topples to the side, stretching out fully to relax. She closes her eyes and smiles warmly at the sound of Helena’s animated tone, the lilt of her voice changing as she inhabits different characters. But her cheer sobers at the thought that starting tomorrow, that voice will be sequestered three thousand miles away, and that she, and Claudia, will be in charge of bedtime stories henceforth.

Her mood brightens as she realizes that thought is not entirely true. With the aid of technology, Helena could continue telling bedtime stories indefinitely. The time difference will be a challenge, but the idea is legitimately possible, which should put everyone's minds at ease.

As the story concludes, Myka peels herself off the couch and enters the bedroom. She sees Helena cradling a now sleeping Christina, her chin resting on the top of Christina’s head. She climbs into bed, and snuggles close to Helena then kisses her lightly behind her ear.

“Try to get some sleep, ok?” she whispers, then laces her fingers through Helena’s. She gives her hand a gentle squeeze.

Helena turns her head and angles her eyes toward Myka but doesn’t reply.

Myka lifts up and places a soft kiss on Helena’s lips. “I love you,” she murmurs then flashes a small, comforting smile.

The worry in Helena’s eyes lessens at Myka’s words. “And, I love you,” she whispers. She holds Myka’s gaze for a few moments more, then turns back to Christina.

Myka presses close, hoping she absorbs some the anxiety radiating off Helena like heat. She closes her eyes tightly and silently wishes they could stay this way forever, that tomorrow would never come.

\--------------

Myka wakes the moment the alarm rings, surprised to have fallen asleep at all. Rolling gently to the side, she finds Helena and Christina missing and listens closely to determine if they are moving around in the living room. A lump forms in her throat as she acknowledges the silence of the apartment, thinking she shouldn't have been so flippant about Helena’s off the grid idea. Helena could have easily taken Christina and bolted. She lifts her head and breaths a sigh of relief as she spies Helena’s luggage in the corner, deciding she’s just being paranoid. They probably went for a walk so Helena could have a moment alone with Christina.

Just then, Myka hears lighthearted giggling as the front door opens.

“Mom, you’re funny,” Christina chirps.

“I’m so very glad to hear that, dear,” Helena enthuses.

The sound of bags rustling fills the air. Myka pries herself off the bed to investigate.

“What are you two up to?” she asks while entering the living room.

“We rose early and thought we’d make a trip to the market. We've brought croissants, danishes, and bagels, plus coffee and a few other treats for later."

“What time are we going?” Myka can’t help asking. She already knows the answer but wants to hear the information again, feeling her earlier confusion has already put her on edge.

“The car's booked for seven thirty as my flight’s at ten, and we might hit morning traffic."

Myka glances at the clock. It’s six thirty now. They better get a move on.

“Christina, why don’t you wake your Aunt Claudia,” Helena muses.

“Ok!” Christina yelps.

Helena and Christina walk toward Claudia’s room together, and Helena opens the door. Christina jets across the room and launches onto Claudia's bed.

Helena walks back into the kitchen. A few beats later, a loud “Hey!” emanates from Claudia’s room. Helena smirks smugly.

Myka begins to unpack the food from the bags.

“Do you have everything? Tickets? Passport? Laptop?” she asks anxiously, her voice trembling slightly.

“I believe so, but I’ll double check,” Helena answers, noting Myka’s unease.

Helena leaves to inspect her luggage while Christina skips into the kitchen. “Aunt Claudia said she’ll be out in a minute,” she explains.

“Ok,” Myka says absently. She glances at the clock again and sees it’s now six forty. She pulls some plates from the dishwasher and lays the breakfast options out but frowns as she takes in the spread, thinking this is the wrong order of events. She should get ready before eating, but then again Christina and Helena are already ready, so it’s really her and Claudia who need to get a move on.

Myka notices Christina has been watching her during her mental debate and decides she should feed her first.

“Do you want a bagel?”

“Mom usually cuts things up so we can share everything."

“Ok,” Myka replies warily, thinking these are the kinds of things she should know already, but doesn't. She opens a drawer and pulls out a knife then begins somewhat clumsily cutting up the items on the table.

Helena drops her luggage in the living room then moves toward the kitchen.

“I’ll do that, love. You go get ready,” she says as she notes Myka’s difficulty dividing a danish.

Myka lays down the knife and looks over at Helena’s luggage.

“It’s all there,” Helena reports, her tone confident, attempting to assuage Myka’s nerves. “Go. Dress. I’ll sort out breakfast."

Myka nods once then moves toward the bathroom. A drowsy Claudia emerges and halts her journey before she reaches the door.

“Whassup, princess? Did I hear there's pastries?"

“In the kitchen,” Myka remarks flatly. She grits her teeth, thinking she's not sure she can handle being called “princess” today but knows she has to let it go. “I’ll be quick; then you can get ready."

“Whatevs,” Claudia says casually.

Myka stands frozen, watching Claudia yawn heartily, wondering why no one is hurrying, then realizes she’s not hurrying either and scuttles toward the bathroom. She should have gotten up earlier, she thinks, _everyone_ should have gotten up earlier, because now there's no time. No time at all.

After entering, she pulls the door closed then swiftly perches on the lip of the tub. All this time she’s been as positive as she could be about the situation, telling Helena everything will be all right, repeatedly explaining if they stick to the plan nothing will go wrong. But what is the plan, really? Absolutely _everything_ is hypothetical at this point, and nothing, except Helena leaving, is set in stone. Her breathing quickens and her chest tightens as she decides it’s all too much to process.

When a knock comes at the door, she startles.

“Are you alright in there?"

“Fine,” Myka replies in a voice an octave too high. She springs into action and grabs her toothbrush from the holder above the sink but freezes, her heart pounding ever faster, as she notices Helena's toothbrush is missing.

“May I come in?” Helena asks but slips in the door before Myka can answer.

Myka abruptly turns to face Helena and leans against the sink, toothbrush still in hand, staring wide eyed.

“It’s finally hit you, hasn’t it."

“What?” Myka replies as innocently as possible.

“The gravity of the situation. That I’ll be gone, and you’ll be responsible for Christina—"

“That’s not it. It’s just I thought I had everything worked out, but now I’m not so sure,” Myka explains. She casts her eyes down.

Helena steps closer and wraps her hands around Myka’s upper arms. “For some unknowable reason, you’ve always held faith in me. Please know, I’ve always returned that faith.” Her fingers gently squeeze Myka's bicep. "What was it you said yesterday, ‘eye on the prize’?"

“Yeah. Cheesy, huh?” Myka angles her eyes up self-consciously.

Helena lifts Myka’s chin with a finger. “Adorable."

A knock comes at the door. “Times ticking, ladies. And I gotta pee."

“Just a minute,” Myka calls out.

“Thank you,” Helena remarks.

“For what?"

“For being the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever known.”

Helena leans forward, cupping Myka's cheek then pressing their lips firmly together. Upon release, she spins on a heel and moves toward the door.

Myka closes her eyes and tells herself to get a grip. She hears the door close, then hurriedly finishes up and exits while Claudia rushes in.

\-----------

The car arrives promptly at seven thirty and the group funnel out of the apartment and onto the street.

Helena requested a minivan but finds an SUV in its place. Claudia rides shotgun with the driver while Myka, Christina, and Helena populate the back. Christina sits in the middle but climbs over Helena's lap to look out the window as they cross the bridge over the East River. Myka takes a generous sip her coffee, feeling fortunate to be able to bring it with her. She smiles at Christina’s enthusiasm and joins her, staring out her window watching Manhattan recede into the distance.

The ride is shorter than expected. Helena pays the driver while Claudia and Myka hop out to retrieve her bags. They enter the terminal together and file up the escalator toward departures, then locate the correct airline. Claudia entertains Christina to the side while Myka and Helena queue for baggage check. Once Helena’s ticket is issued, and her bags tagged, they join Christina and Claudia and move towards the security checkpoint.

“Yikes!” Claudia yelps at the sight of the line snaking around several times and out into the lobby.

“Indeed,” Helena agrees.

Helena looks at Myka and Myka’s eyes widen, her heart beating ever faster, knowing this is it; their point of separation.

Helena turns to face the group and sets down her bag, then steps toward Claudia.

Claudia looks down and shuffles a foot.

“I not sure how to approach this,” Helena admits.

“Don’t ask me."

“You’re they closest thing to family I’ve ever had."

Claudia shrugs a shoulder shyly. “Hey don’t get all sappy on me. It’s not like your moving to Antarctica. I’ll FaceTime you tomorrow, and we’ll fight over something stupid."

“True. But nevertheless, I’ll miss squabbling with you in person," Helena admits. She flashes a devilish smile. "And your grill.”

Claudia smacks Helena on the arm then lunges forward, enveloping her in a huge hug. “You behave over there. Don’t be too much of a smart ass to the professors."

“That, I can’t promise."

“Take care of yourself, ok?”

“I will."

Helena stares at Claudia for a little too long. Claudia becomes visibly uncomfortable.

“What?"

“Thank you for minding Christina while I’m gone."

“Hey, come on. You know I’ll always have your back."

Helena nods respectfully then turns towards Myka.

Myka stands stiffly, back straight, arms at her sides. Her chest tightens as their eyes meet.

“Call me the minute you get there, ok?” she blurts nervously.

“I will."

“I’ll miss you."

“I’ll miss you, as well."

Myka stares at Helena, feeling like an emotional wreck, too scared to move.

“Call me when you—"

Helena springs forward and circles her hands around Myka’s waist. Myka wraps her arms around Helena's shoulders and buries her nose into the crook of Helena’s neck, letting loose the tears she’d been suppressing all morning. Helena pulls back then dips forward, placing a blindingly heartfelt kiss on Myka’s lips. She withdraws slowly then rests her forehead on Myka’s and tugs her body closer.

“I love you,” she declares softly.

“I love you, too,” Myka murmurs, her tone wavering, but her words, sincere.

Helena kisses away a few stray tears then gradually steps back. She takes hold of Myka’s hands and laces their fingers together. Keeping their eyes locked, she tightens her grip, then hesitantly lets their fingers slide apart. She closes her eyes and breathes in a deep breath, then crouches down to talk to Christina.

“I must go, love.” Tears begin to fall as Helena holds out her arms.

Christina steps forward, and Helena pulls her into a loving hug. Christina hugs her back.

“Why are you so sad?” Christina asks earnestly. She wipes a tear from Helena's cheek.

“Because we’ve never been parted, you and I."

“I can come with you if you want,” Christina innocently offers.

“I wish you could, love. I wish you could,” Helena mumbles, then holds Christina at arms length. "We'll see each other soon. I’m certain you’ll be alright here with your Aunt Claudia and Myka in my absence.” She blinks back her tears and flashes a strained smile.

“You’re my baby girl, and I love you more than anything in the world.” She pulls Christina toward her, into another massive hug. “You’ll remember that when I’m gone, won’t you?"

“I love you too, Mom,” Christina answers tenderly and clutches Helena tighter.

"I’ll miss you so much.” Helena's hands tremble as she smooths down Christina’s hair and places a tender kiss her forehead. She closes her eyes to compose herself and after a few moments, rises.

When Helena’s eyes meet Myka's, Myka nearly flinches at the heartbreak she finds there.

“Take your leave before I clear customs. I can’t bear the thought of you waiting."

Myka stares at Helena, her heart beating feverishly, feeling the minute Helena walks away that her insides will be torn apart.

“I’ll call the instant I arrive,” Helena assures and kisses Myka one last time. She then turns to Claudia.

“Thank you for tolerating my petulance all these years."

“I’ll still have to put up you, even on a tiny screen,” Claudia gibes. "Thanks for being my partner in crime. Who knows, maybe we'll start building rockets again.” She winks.

“Could you, Mom?” Christina blurts, her words full wonder.

“Perhaps,” Helena replies. "Something to look forward to, I suppose.” She smiles lovingly at Christina then threads a strand of hair behind her ear. Kneeling down, she hugs Christina one last time, then grabs the handle of her carry-on and walks purposefully towards the security check line. She gives a tiny wave before joining the queue. Everyone waves back.

Myka can’t take her eyes off of Helena as she shuffles through the line.

“We should go like she said. I can’t watch this,” Claudia thoughtfully sounds, then elbows Myka lightly in the ribs. She reaches a hand toward Christina. “Let's get back to the city and get some brunch."

“But it’s Wednesday,” Myka points out, eyes still trained on Helena.

“Brunch isn’t only for weekends anymore."

Myka tears her eyes away to address Claudia. She lifts a brow. “What’s the world coming to?"

“You know that little place in Essex Market? It's open all week now."

“The one that's only open on weekends for brun—" Myka smirks. “Oh. Clever.”

“Exactamundo,” Claudia snaps. She winks and points her fingers at Myka as if she’s holding two guns.

Myka locates Helena one last time, almost losing her in the crowd. Helena glances back, looking at once elated to see her but annoyed they’re still there.

“Let’s head out,” she says, but continues watching Helena limp through the line until she’s obscured by turning a corner.

Christina grabs Myka’s hand, pulling her toward Claudia and the three navigate the bustling lobby, following the signs for ground transportation.

A few moments later, Myka’s pace quickens to the point where Christina is dragging behind. She looks down at Christina and the moment their eyes meet, Christina’s face fills with uncertainty. Realizing she’s failed to mask the worry in her eyes, Myka instantly brightens her expression, thinking she can’t let her own anxiety burden this child. She smiles a smile she imagines must look a lot like her mother’s, specifically when comforting her after her father went off the handle over something she cared about but had little power to change. Christina smiles back and Myka feels relieved, hoping Christina found the same solace in her gesture as she once did with her mother as a child.

As Christina and Claudia disappear through the revolving doors, Myka stops for a moment and sighs, thinking for better or worse, phase two is now officially initiated. Noticing Myka didn't follow, Claudia and Christina peer in through the windows and make funny faces as they press into the glass. Feeling her mood slightly leavened, she smiles at the display then joins the comic pair outside.

-END PART 2-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE 1: Helena quotes Le Corbusier: “Vehement silhouettes of Manhattan - that vertical city with unimaginable diamonds.” But I used him once already as a quote, so I opted for a different one as the starter. 
> 
> NOTE 2: After wrapping up this chapter, I've had some unexpected thoughts and to get them out of my head, I’m sharing them here. (This is really a pep talk to myself, I know.)
> 
> One of the reasons I went through with sending Helena away in chapter 23 was to explore how a potentially traumatic event could be navigated when both parties are genuinely invested in making it work. The seas the B&W ship sail are often rough, but after 40 or so chapters of g/s and w/w combined, these two know in their hearts they’re meant to be together. Their emotional connection has now been confirmed out loud and they've just been navigating what that means. I think anyone who is in a committed relationship can relate to the trials couples go through once they’ve come to that juncture. It’s a whole new ballgame.
> 
> So when I came to the end of chapter 23, I had the realization it could easily become the end of a “part 2.” And a “part 3,” a whole new section, could be made out of Myka and Helena’s separation. It’s only been four months, if you can believe it, folks, because of the snail’s pace of the story so far. And since “part 1” was 21 chapters, it’d make sense to wrap up “part 2” in 23. The story, in my head, wraps up around Christmas (with an epilogue), and it’s still August. So you see how much time that is in the present w/w universe (a lot!) Four more months could equal a lot of chapters, which seems somewhat of a daunting task. (Plus there are other B&W stories I want to write…)
> 
> In the future, Myka will certainly be weathering many trials including learning how to care for a child and navigating her job/career (having Claudia around will help, but she’s no Helena.) A “part 3" could even turn its lens on Helena herself, dive into her psyche a bit, see how she’s coping with fulfilling her promise to Myka while attempting to turn her life around (which I think could work if it were structured as a separate “part 3" piece, in that we now know more of Helena’s feelings and could add her voice.)
> 
> I’m still deliberating, but I think I’ve decided for now to stick to the original plan and keep plugging forward. My challenge will be achieving the above efficiently without it becoming a separate “part,” and keeping it Myka’s POV as it has been. Cross fingers it will work! 
> 
> Also, I’m s-l-o-w-l-y going back and cleaning up g/s and w/w. I want to make both pieces more readable and remember where these two have been while trying to finish up w/w.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	24. Chapter 24

Hello readers! If you've subscribed to wax/wane and want to know how this all ends, head over to [if/then](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7287934/chapters/16549672) to find the next installment of the story. Sorry to make you jump over there...after much thought, it made more sense to start a new part than tack on something to wax/wane. As always, thank for reading! -B


End file.
